


Fier și Sare

by BelladonnaWyck, justlikeyouimagined



Series: Sânge și Dulce [3]
Category: Basic Instinct (Movies), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Double Anal Penetration, Drowning, Forced Orgasm, Forced Prostitution, Gratuitous Violence, Gun Violence, Kidnapping, Lots of Sex, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Predicament Bondage, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Oral Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Torture, cigarette burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22409419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelladonnaWyck/pseuds/BelladonnaWyck, https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeyouimagined/pseuds/justlikeyouimagined
Summary: Moments before Sange’s end. See end author’s note for spoilers of part 1, or better yet, read ithere
Relationships: Adam Towers/Original Character(s), Nigel (Charlie Countryman)/Adam Towers, Nigel (Charlie Countryman)/Other(s), Nigel/Adam Towers/Original Character(s)
Series: Sânge și Dulce [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1577212
Comments: 28
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to the Sange Verse! We are posting this for RareMeat Adam Towers week! This is part 2 - it is completed and will be updated weekly!

Dimitri shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot before finally giving up and moving to sit in one of the chairs opposite Nigel’s imposing wooden desk. Silence spread out between the two men like a palpable fog. 

Nigel moved papers about needlessly, unsure where to start. Whatever comfort he’d found with the man during their previous heated evening sharing Adam had been extinguished with the bright morning-after sun. Now, he didn’t want to spend a second more alone with Dimitri than absolutely necessary.

“I uh,” Nigel began, coughing once to clear his throat. He motioned at the papers by way of explanation. “I was just in the fucking middle of something before…” 

He let himself trail off. He _had_ been working on business, before. Before Adam and Dimitri had burst into his back office, the boy swollen and bloodstained, worse even than he’d ever seen him before. Before he’d had the kid agree to come home with him. As a precautionary measure. 

Dimitri made a low grunting noise and cast his eyes about the office, not finding a target before awkwardly focusing his interest narrowly in on his hands. 

The minutes plowed on at a snail’s pace. Dimitri swore his pulse in the veins atop his hands beat slower and slower until time stood virtually still. At that point, he finally looked up at the other man sharing the space.

Nigel’s eyes darted away from where he’d been staring at the top of Dimitri’s head. He didn’t need him knowing he’d been paying him any attention, but he figured his knee jerk response to flinch away from his gaze had probably been a tell. To recover, he feigned a casual ease, leaning back in his chair to look intensely at the other man.

“So you couldn’t get there any fucking sooner?” Nigel admonished. Adam was a pulpy mess, covered in bruises and cuts that would take days and days to turn from purple to green to sickly yellow. 

Dimitri snorted dismissively. “Kid’d be dead if I hadn’t shown up when I did. You’re fucking welcome.”

Nigel made a show of putting his feet up on the desk, ignoring the papers he’d left strewn about. “You waiting for your thank you card?” As if the man across from him wasn’t equally as grateful he’d gotten there in time. 

“No, just a confirmation of that protection, like you promised Adam.” Dimitri snapped, referring to Nigel’s previous acknowledgement to Adam that he’d be able to provide a cover for Dimitri, now that he was a known target to the group looking for Adam. 

“I’ll make a call.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Nigel stared at Dimitri. For a time, Dimitri stared back. Nearly simultaneously, the two men broke eye contact, distracted by the grain in the desk or the swirl of the design in the carpet.  
The silence crawled in again, chokingly thick.

Time lumbered slowly on. 

Suddenly, a single shot rang through the ample bass reverberating from inside the club. Both men were on their feet and through the door into the hall in seconds, but the space was empty save for a wary bouncer, unholstering his gun as he stepped out of a private room with his pants around his thighs.

The two ran, Nigel in the lead, covering the short distance between his office and the bathroom Adam should be in within a half dozen bounding steps. His stomach lurched as he put his hand to the still-swinging door. He pushed it open with one hand and drew his gun with the other. 

Nigel came to a complete stop, nearly causing Dimitri to crash into the back of him. Before him: an empty bathroom.

\---

Nigel was seething. It was either be angry or fucking crumble, and he refused to be brought down by a pretty cocksucker with blue eyes and his nose always in the wrong fucking places.

He’d trashed his office, trashed pretty much the entire club too, in the hours after Adam was first taken. 

He’d been soaked, the sky deciding to open up like some cliche movie as he’d ran outside to see if Adam was there. He was gone. Disappeared into the dark streets of Bucharest. Nigel had set loose his team immediately, but without a good look at the vehicle, there was little anyone could do. 

“Pavlov says the Russians weren’t at their usual spot by the cafe.” Dimitri bounded into the office, skidding to a halt just before a spray of broken glass. “Jesus.”

Dimitri took in the shambles of the office, picking his path and walking a few feet into the disarray. “Did they come back?” he asked, alarmed.

Nigel huffed and shook his head, then as if in demonstration, grabbed the overflowing ashtray and smashed it against the door jam, just barely missing Dimitri’s head. 

“Why the _fuck_ weren’t the Russians at their usual spot, Dimitri?!” Nigel roared, furious. He didn’t need a look at the men to know in his gut that the Russians were behind the catch and grab. 

“They didn’t exactly let me in,” Dimitri said, somewhat sheepishly.

That sent Nigel into another tear. He kicked savagely at his office chair, making it go skidding to topple across the room. “The fuck good is having a fucking Russian if they can’t even speak to their own people?!”

Dimitri balked. “Having? You don’t _have_ anyone.”

“Who would fucking want you, you useless piece of shit?” He paced the destroyed office, crunching papers and glassware under his heels as he went.

“Fucking suka! You’re blaming this on me? _You’re_ the one that let him leave! You’re the one with the incompetent staff that _let_ him get taken! So now you’re trying to fucking blame me?” Dimitri fumed, closing the distance between them with thunderous, stomping steps.

Dimitri’s hand went to a fist, but Nigel was faster. He pulled his gun and aimed it between Dimitri’s eyes. “Don’t you fucking dare, cocksucker.” Nigel warned in a dangerously low voice. 

Dimitri snarled at the weapon, looking past it and directly into Nigel’s glassy eyes. “This is useless. Put the goddamn gun down.” When Nigel didn’t move, Dimitri huffed angrily and made a reckless swipe at the gun “We’re wasting _time_.” 

Nigel let Dimitri disarm him, letting the gun fall, still uncocked to the floor. He knew his anger was misguided, but knowing it didn’t do a damn thing to redirect it. He growled and spun around, putting his fist through the crumbling plaster. His hand came away caked in dust and blood.

When he turned back to Dimitri, he was a fraction calmer. “Go tell Marius to collect the rest of the men. We’re going out hunting.” 

Dimitri nodded curtly, spun round and went in search of Nigel’s head muscle.

\---

Adam awoke to darkness. Not blanketing darkness like the nighttime in the country, but a frazzled sort of artificial darkness that came from the painted windows and sealed-tight locked door. It was a darkness he couldn’t trust; already he wasn’t certain how long he’d been taken. No more than a couple of days, surely. But it could also have been hours, barely longer than a day.

His body was a poor gauge for the time. It’d been long enough that his stomach lurched and growled angrily, but Adam had never gone hungry to know if this was just an early grumpiness or the final burst before starvation mode kicked in and his sense of hunger died down. He knew he was thirsty: that he was fucking sure of. 

His hands were tied behind his back, tight enough that the circulation had stalled ages ago and his fingers had long gone from icy cold to burning hot to entirely missing. He tried to wiggle them, sometimes, when he remembered they were there, but it was hard to keep a single line of thought straight in his mind long enough to act on it. His thoughts were like wisps of smoke that could play at different shapes but would never solidify into a proper idea

He heard the soft, susurrus of footsteps approaching, and then a harsh yellow light was turned on, casting a halo of light around a bare, dirty lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. 

He stopped hanging from his hands and stood himself up tall. Immediately, he felt the first pangs of pain come sparking back into his hands. The sensation spread like wildfire; he wiggled his fingers in the face of the pain, knowing that it was coming on full force no matter how still he tried to be.

He tried to turn himself to hide his face from the painfully bright light, and was met with an Italian leather shoe to the shin, spinning him awkwardly about his restraints. He shut his eyes against the glare, the afterimage of the bulb burned into his eyelids. 

He didn’t need to see to know who was in the room with him, anyway. The shoes and the familiar smell of a body spray that most men grew out of in their teen years were enough of a give away. 

“Adam Towers. I think it’s about time you started earning our hospitality,” Gavrie’s voice was light, jovial in the way that only men with a propensity for cruelty steeped in their own inadequacies were capable of. 

Adam managed a laugh, the vibration tearing through his dry throat and parting his chapped, cracked lips. 

“Helluva place you’ve got here, Gav,” he replied sassily. He refused to show his belly to this particular sort of predator. He didn’t deserve Adam’s begging. He wasn’t stupid. Gavrie wouldn’t release him, why debase himself to ask. 

Another blow, this time from a well-adorned fist to the gut and Adam curled inwards involuntarily, trying to protect his most vulnerable parts. 

“You’d do well to remember your place,” He pressed on that infernal earpiece that seemed permanently lodged in his ear and hissed a command in slurred Russian. 

Seconds later the door was opened, a blackout curtain hanging from the otherside of the doorframe keeping Adam from seeing anything beyond the press of several bodies filtering into the room. 

“We heard about how you were Nigel’s little fuckboy and he passed you around like a party favor. Figured you’d like it if we showed you the same kindness, so I brought some friends to meet you.” 

Half a dozen men surrounded Adam. He couldn’t really make out faces or details, even with his eyes open, the light was still so harsh after hours, or days, without it. 

“He’s fucking pissed himself,” one of the men spat in disgust, spittal flying out of his mouth with enough velocity that Adam felt it land across his cheeks. He tried not to show any outward acknowledgement of the men or his situation. There weren't any bathroom breaks while forcibly imprisoned and, at some point after the first few hours, he’d finally lost the battle with his bladder. He could still smell the sharp scent of urine and he was chafing where it dried against his skin. 

“He doesn’t look like fucking much. Probably won’t get anything decent for him at market,” another man stated in a voice chillingly calm. Adam shuddered at the casual way he spoke about another human being. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised, these were not good or reasonable men. 

“He’ll get plenty, Roman,” Gavrie’s voice this time, his defensive reply pegging him for the green, wanna-be mobster he was. Gavrie had been Alex’s lapdog. He’d jumped when told. He wasn’t the brains of any operation. 

“He just needs a little clean up,” Gavrie added, then spun on his heels to collect the industrial hose that lay strewn off to the side of the room. It’d been too dark for Adam to even know it was there; now he cursed inwardly seeing the sink and shower stall that stood just out of his limited circle of mobility.

Gavrie barked orders awkwardly at the men, some of them twice his age. Adam didn’t fail to notice the little way his feet danced uncertainly as he gave the commands. He wasn’t used to the power yet, that much was painfully obvious. 

Two men stepped out from the group and approached Adam. One brandished a small knife, making Adam’s heart jump into his throat. He leaned back from the men as much as he was capable, but it was of little use. The ropes holding him secured to some pipe above him weren’t going to give any time soon; he’d already tried. 

The man with the knife gave him a lopsided little grin before bringing the blade directly to Adam’s chest. Adam didn’t dare move even for breathing, his body stone still.

The knife slide through the front of Adam’s shirt like butter, ripping it open in the front. He let out a relieved sigh when the other man went for his belt buckle and began undressing him. He hated that being made to strip in front of dangerous strangers was now something he considered a reprieve. 

Soon, he was cut and pulled out of his clothing and half-stood, half-swung by the ropes before the Russian party.

Adam caught sight of Gavrie’s cruel smile before he pressed on the hose’s nozzle, blasting him with ice cold water. The brutal force of the hose knocked him off his feet and he swung wildly in the water’s jet, his shoulders screaming in pain as his body twisted unnaturally around by his bindings. 

“There, now go take a closer look and tell me he won’t fetch a pretty penny,” Gavrie said snidely, tossing the hose out of reach from where Adam hung. 

The first man, an older, acne-scarred Russian with bleeding faded tattoos peaking out from under his suit approached. He grabbed unceremoniously at Adam’s inner thigh and gave it a squeeze. Adam jerked away, but recoiled back into the Russian’s touch when he felt the heat of another body come up behind him. This one placed his rough hand on the small of Adam’s back and dragged it down, over the globe of Adam’s ass. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Adam warned, though the words felt empty as soon as they left his tongue. Or what? He’d swing his way out of the room and leave the groping men behind? He was fucked. 

“Don’t be shy, friends.” Gavrie motioned the few stragglers forward, pointing between Adam’s legs. “Nice little pussy this one’s got, or so I’ve been told.”

“Your father certainly seems to think so,” Adam grumbled, twisting himself this way and that out of the hands of the men that now surrounded him. 

Gavrie’s lip curled and he spat a thick wad of phlegm onto the concrete. He came up to Adam and pinched hard on either side of his mouth, forcing Adam’s lips into an obscene pucker. 

“And quite the fucking mouth on him too, I hear.” Gavrie hocked back another wad and spat it directly onto Adam’s dripping wet face. “That pretty tongue can be put to all sorts of uses, I’m sure.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stranger in his doorway was large, cumbersomely so, and pointing a gun directly at Dimitri.

Dimitri was a proud man. Far too proud to admit just how lonely he’d become since losing Adam. 

He’d lived on his own since his divorce nearly a decade prior and, while Adam had warmed his bed plenty of nights, he was alone more often than not. Adam was a fickle, selfish boy and Dimitri hadn’t been looking for anything deeper than the occasional fuck, anyway. 

But the boy’s absence had called forth a vast chasm of nostalgia and haunting _what ifs._ Dimitri couldn’t even get a fucking beer while he worked another local pub for tips without feeling a pang of want deep in his chest. He’d never wanted Adam as a lover, not in the sense that Nigel clearly wanted him. He’d never looked at Adam, or been looked at by him, with fucking hearts in his eyes. 

He loved Adam. That much he could admit to himself. But the love he felt for him had always been familial. Like the son he sometimes _wished_ he’d had. Dimitri knew that Gavrie wasn’t a creature of only his own making. Dimitri had failed him as a boy and had continued to fail him as a man. His obligation for his son had waned in the past year or so - if he were honest, he might admit that his son was lost to him now. But Adam. Adam had been something special, and no one had ever looked at Dimitri with the same level of sly fondness that he did. 

And to his sleep deprived, vodka-drowned brain, that love could have been something _more._ He knew it wasn’t rational. He knew he didn’t even really mean it, maybe, but there was jealousy burning in his heart as he watched Nigel crash his tumbler of half finished liquor into the temple of the bartender all because the man had made a comment about _the trash being taken out_ in regards to Adam. 

Dimitri envied Nigel’s passion. And the obsessive, possessive brand of love the Romanian already seemed to have for Adam. Still too stubborn and too stupid to admit it, but Nigel was a man of actions over words anyway. And his actions were clearly the actions of a man in love. 

Dimitri slid off the barstool and walked out of the bar, not even sparing a glance back as Nigel shouted for him, his threats slurring together on his whiskey-heavy tongue. He was tired down to his fucking bones and he just wanted to sleep. 

It had been four days since Adam had been taken. Dimitri was running on a handful of hours of a restless sleep and alcohol. He’d even taken several offered bumps of blow over the last several days - something he hadn’t done since his youth. 

Nigel had given Dimitri a decent enough apartment in one of the dozen properties he owned in Bucharest. Dimitri knew it was all for Adam, but he appreciated it nonetheless. Not that he’d ever tell the infuriating Romanian. 

“The fuck do you think you’re going?” Nigel bellowed to him from the doorway of the bar. 

Dimitri waved his slack hand, shooing off the other man. “To sleep. Don’t call me unless you’ve found him.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, sliding into the passenger side of one of Nigel’s vehicles and motioning for the driver to go.

\---

“Say it again, myshka” Dimitri said sleepily, chuckling under his breath.

Adam slapped him lightly across the chest in mock disapproval. He slipped off the shared bed and sat up, scratching at a particularly purpling hickey that was blossoming on his collarbone. 

“It’s not polite to make fun of someone’s accent.” Even as Adam said it, his smile burst across his face. “You should be glad not to be surrounded by Romanian all the time. Someone to practice your English with and what have you.”

Dimitri scoffed, getting up onto his elbows to watch the way Adam slinked about his bedroom. “I’ve been speaking English since before you were fucking born, _zvyozdochka_. Isn’t it about time you put a little effort into your own personal development? How do you suppose to get anything done here if you can’t speak Romanian?”

“Pretty little thing like me?” Adam teased, shaking his bare ass in Dimitri’s direction. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” His laughter floated in the air, light and careless. 

“Then amuse me and say it again” Dimitri chided, smiling. 

Adam finished slipping on his shirt and spun around, playing at beng affronted. “What? The _loo_? You want me to tell you I’m going to the fucking toilet again?”

Dimitri threw his head back and laughed from deep in his belly. It was good to hear his boy again, after so long. 

Adam huffed, but flung himself down onto the bed, straddling Dimitri’s naked torso. “I forgot how much of a jerk you were,” he said, looking down at the older man. “Makes me wonder why I’m wasting my time with you.”

Dimitri grabbed Adam by the hips and lifted him easily down so his bare ass rubbed along Dimitri’s massive length. “Still wondering?”

Adam’s laugh sparkled in the quiet room and he leaned down to take a playful nip from Dimitri’s hairy chest - 

Dimitri’s eyes snapped open, taking in the dull darkness of the sparsely furnished bedroom. His body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his cock half hard. He blinked once, twice, trying to bring to mind what it was that he’d just been dreaming about. 

The memory hit him with such physicality, he reached his hand up to his chest to wipe away the ghost of Adam’s lips. He swallowed hard, then swivelled and pulled himself to sitting on the edge of the mattress. 

His eyes scanned the dark shadows, focusing in on a rumpled pile of clothes in the corner. A tightness in his chest intensified; for a moment, he could only focus on keeping his eyes dry as memories of their first night in Bucharest flooded him. He reached over and snatched the t-shirt from the corner’s pile. 

It barely smelled like him, anymore. He’d not been careful enough with it and now his own stink had infiltrated the fabric and tainted Adam’s memory. Still, he took the shirt up to his nose and inhaled deeply.

Despite his best efforts, his vision swirled and blurred with tears. The first fell heavy onto the fabric, followed soon after by a second and a third. Dimitri gasped quietly, his whole chest aching miserably.

He clutched the shirt to his torso as though he could use it to fill up the gaping hole left by Adam’s absence. 

He was a fucking failure. He’d left Adam alone and now he was gone and he couldn’t help but feel responsible for his boy. 

A sound from behind him halted his tears as quickly as they’d started, body immediately in action as he turned to face his open bedroom door. 

“What a fucking sorry excuse for leadership the Romanians have.” The stranger in his doorway was large, cumbersomely so, and pointing a gun directly at Dimitri. There was a flash of a thought that told him not to move, to let the man shoot. A slouch towards ruination like the little voice that tells you to jump off the side of tall buildings, or to slip beneath the water of a warm bath and not resurface. 

It was gone as quickly as it came, the lingering, fading scent of Adam still in his nose spurring him into action. The man was large, but Dimitri was quick for his age, and he used his speed and the element of surprise to drop to the ground and roll behind a large armoire he’d overturned in his fury several days prior, contents still spilled out like guts across the carpeted floor. 

The man let off a flurry of Russian curses, barreling the rest of the way into the room and shooting at the armoire. The bullet hit something solid inside, stopping its trajectory. Dimitri eyed the room frantically, searching for possible exits or weapons. His gun was now halfway across the room, left tucked underneath his pillow. 

“I expected Nigel Ibanescu to have bigger balls than this. Come out like a real man,” the stranger taunted, and Dimitri nearly laughed at the irony. That fucking Romanian cunt was going to get him killed without even _trying_. 

He saw a few feet away a tipped over heavy-bottomed lamp, the shade in tatters and barely clinging to the frame. It had been a rough few days and his entire apartment was a tip. Which now might work in his favor. He readied himself to sprint and, at the sound of another shot, he took his opportunity. 

He tossed the lamp, not at the man’s face, but at his hands, and his plan worked. The stranger dropped his gun in surprise as the heavy lamp crashed against his wrist, and Dimitri used the chaos to dash to his own gun. He had it in seconds, flipping the safety off and raising it in the direction of the doorway. The man was still standing in the same spot, a slightly dazed expression on his face. 

But then he seemed to crumple, his body crashing to the floor like a wave. Dimitri stared at him dumbfounded, until he saw Nigel come up from behind him, his own gun still pointed slightly up from where he had shot the intruder in the back of the head. 

“What the fuck, old man?” Nigel accused, stepping into the room and around the body that now sprawled out across the floor, thick red blood seeping into the carpet. 

“He thought I was you, you absolute fucking cunt.” He brandished his hand not holding the gun at Nigel, noticing too late that he still held the old tshirt. It fell from his hand in a crumple on the floor. 

Nigel looked from Dimitri to the shirt and back again. He noticed the tear tracks drying on his face and cursed silently to himself. 

“You’re coming with me,” he said, a small nod sealing the deal. 

“The fuck I am. Someone comes to kill you and you want me to follow you? Not a fucking chance,” Dimitri said dismissively, holstering his gun into the band of his boxers and walking past Nigel like he were a particularly distasteful piece of furniture. 

He made his way to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of vodka he pulled from the empty freezer. 

Nigel was behind him immediately. “Don’t play tough, take my fucking offer and let’s get out of here. There might be more than just the one.”

Dimitri sagged into the kitchen chair and took a long pull from his glass. “Does this look like a group operation? There aren’t any more, calm your ass and let me drink in peace.”

Nigel huffed indignantly, staring for a long time at the insolent older man before him. When Dimitri made no move but to hold his head in his hands, Nigel cursed quietly again, stomped over to the kitchen and found a glass for himself. Taking it, along with the bottle of vodka, he joined Dimitri at the rickety table. 

“What’d he say?” Nigel asked, taking a large sip as though in an attempt to catch up with the other man.

Dimitri looked down into his glass. “Nothing useful.” After he considered, he added, “Nothing about Adam.”

He caught the way Nigel straightened up slightly at the mention of the boy’s name, as though shocked by the sound of it. He made a dissatisfied snuffling noise and drained the rest of his glass. 

The two men were silent for a long time. 

“I’m sorry.” Nigel said, finally. 

“You fucking should be. Could’ve been killed.” Dimitri replied, though without any sense of anger projecting the words. 

“About Adam.” Nigel clarified, then looked up to catch Dimitri’s surprised eyes. “He was under my roof and he wasn’t safe and I’m sorry.”

Dimitri’s vision blurred, but he sucked in a small breath and held himself together. 

Nigel leaned forward in his seat and poured both of them another small glass. He raised his and waited.

“To Adam.”

A single tear slipped past Dimitri’s eyelashes and splashed on his cheek on the way down. He raised his own glass. “To Adam.”

They both downed their drinks in a single gulp.

\---

As Adam spun from the ropes holding him bent over the ground, he contemplated the amount of red that lay pooled beneath him. Not enough to be worried about yet, he thought. Not that he really knew. Journalism school didn’t teach you these little tidbits.

Apart from his hands, which were the worst sort of numb, he _hurt_ in identifiable places: his face, his back, his ass. This was, all things considered, probably a good sign as well. 

“Stand up, lazy boy,” a thick-necked, heavily tattooed Russian told him in his native tongue. Adam knew enough to figure out the stand up command after having been yelled it a dozen times since the first day. The _lazy boy_ bit the Russians were kind enough to translate.

He hadn’t quite determined why the man was still here. Usually they beat him, or fucked him, and then left for the next man, next group, next injection. Adam fucking _hated_ the injections. 

He watched as the man walked over, his hand over his clothed cock. _Oh, so this is what he wants,_ Adam thought, his ass clenching once as a shiver of aggravation coursed through him. As the man circled, Adam tried to clear his mind, getting ready for what was about to come. He was getting better at hiding it, but the first touch always made him flinch. Now was no different, as the man grabbed him. 

There was no preamble, nor a modicum of gentleness spared for him as the man thrust inside him like an animal mounting a bitch. His rim was torn already, scabbing in some places along the outside and the first thrust of the man’s cock ripped those scabs open. Adam could just barely catch the sharp tang of copper over the overwhelming scent of their combined perspiration in the poorly ventilated room.

The man's breath was fetid and warm, heavy on the back of Adam’s neck as he pounded into him, one hand on Adam’s hip to hold him steady from where he hung, and the other wide and flat against Adam’s taut lower abdomen. He’d lost track of the days since his last meal: they forgot to feed him sometimes. Or maybe it was intentional. He didn’t have the energy to spare for the thought. 

Adam liked to think he was a positive person, but even his lazy, cocksure form of bratty, stubborn confidence was starting to fade as the days went on and there was no reprieve. Today was the first day in a long while where he’d allowed himself to consider Nigel, wistfully imagining it was him who stood behind him, pounding into him viciously. 

Maybe he could still find Adam, could still save him from _this_. His lips caught in a tight grimace. Thoughts like that were poison; he pushed it from his mind.

“Fucking slut, your hole is sloppy and loose. Pussy is worthless if we can’t tighten it up,” he spat on the ground at Adam’s feet and slammed two fingers in alongside his cock; the man was already fairly well endowed so the fullness was blinding, shocking his body enough that Adam’s eyes flew open. 

The man came inside him moments later, ripping his cock and his fingers out of Adam and walking around to his front, thrusting the entire disgusting mess into his face and forcing Adam’s mouth down onto his softening cock, hooking his dirty fingers into Adam’s inner cheek and spreading his mouth out wide. Adam knew better than to bite, or to fight back at this point, simply letting the man use his mouth to clean himself up. He would leave soon enough if Adam behaved. That was the routine. 

Before the first captor had left, a second came in. Adam flinched at the implication but kept his eyes down and away from the door. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d used him together, but each time felt more humiliating than the last. He let himself go limp again, hanging himself by his wrists and feeling the raw pinch of where he’d let the rope bite in earlier. At this point, indifference was Adam’s only weapon; he told himself they would like it less if he didn’t let on how deeply uncomfortable they had made him in his own skin. 

But when he heard shuffling and more footsteps, he did look up. Four captors were in with him now, which was the first time he’d seen as many together. 

They were all completely focused on Adam, no one speaking. It was only then that Adam noticed the syringe in one man’s hand. 

“No! Please!” he cried, standing up straight and uselessly leaning away from where the man was approaching. He’d been drugged before by them, only to wake up in a new location, bone tired, bruised all over, with a headache that could split his skull. He didn’t need that again.

He went rigid at the sting of the needle being forced unceremoniously into his neck. His vision blacked out nearly at once, the last thing he felt was the snap of the ropes being cut before he lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find us on twitter @trikemily or @belladonnawyck!


	3. Chapter 3

“I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses.” Nigel was pacing. Shouting himself hoarse to a room full of thugs who weren’t nearly as emotionally invested as he was. 

Dimitri understood his passion. But he felt like all of his had been drained out of him when they’d walked into that empty bathroom. Adam had been gone for three weeks already and there hadn’t been any legitimate tips about his location since that empty room and swinging door. They were no closer to finding him. If he was even still alive after the failed rescue. 

He tensed at the thought. He didn’t like to press too hard on that particular sore spot in the back of his mind. The very real possibility that Adam was really gone. That he’d never see his stupidly smug face again. Or the soft crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he was looking at Dimitri fondly; like he fucking meant something. 

He shook himself out of the cobwebs of memories that threatened to choke him, thick in his throat.

“Nigel -” he tried to interrupt the latest tirade, but the sharp look Nigel gave him cut him off. 

“No. I’m not fucking paying you bastards for nothing. People don’t just _disappear_ ,” he seethed, throwing his now empty bottle of vodka at one of the closest men. The man smartly ducked, and the bottle shattered; a deafening crackle in the silent room. 

“Get out, lads,” Dimitri waved the group out and herded them through the door. Darko walking in as the last man filtered out. He looked at Dimitri and tilted his head towards Nigel in silent question. _Is it a bad day?_ the look said. 

Every day was a bad day. Dimitri nodded in confirmation, rubbing a hand harshly across his face, cheeks covered in days-old stubble. He forgot to shave a lot these days. Sometimes, he’d go days without a shower or decent sleep. He knew Nigel was just as bad. Worse, maybe, because the mob boss had never had anyone to care about in his life besides his ex-wife and Darko, who was his only family. A brother not by blood, but life.

“Brother, you are starting to worry me,” Dimitri knew Darko’s words were only a partial lie. He wasn’t _starting_ to worry, he’d been worrying for twenty days. 

“Fuck off,” Nigel grumbled, throwing himself onto the couch that lined the wall. The same couch Adam had sat on while the two men fussed over him and patched him up what felt like another life ago. Dimitri shook the memory from his mind and leaned against the desk, arms folded across his chest. 

Darko sighed, but he tossed a folder at Nigel, pointing. “There were some rumors that Adam was seen in Paris this morning. Could be worth checking out.” 

Nigel let the folder spill open across his lap, glancing down at it like it offended him by existing. “Like he was seen yesterday in a cafe right fucking here in Bucharest? Or three weeks before that when they saw him in _America?_ ” That had been a particularly upsetting tip, coming in mere hours after Adam had been taken. It hadn’t given any of the gathered men much confidence in the tips to come after. 

“We’ll have it checked out, regardless,” Dimitri said, running his thick hands through his greased hair and pacing the room. “We always do.”

Darko nodded in agreement, “Alexandros was a cocky motherfucker; if his crew took Adam-”

“They fucking took Adam.” Nigel and Dimitri interrupted nearly simultaneously, neither of them willing to entertain the idea that someone else could have their boy.

Darko waved his hand in front of his face in surrender. He corrected himself, but only by a margin. “The crew that took Adam will likely be as cocksure as the asshole that trained them. They won’t stay hidden for long. Besides, if whoever is running the business doesn’t want it to crumble over hearsay, they’ll surface somewhere soon.”

Nigel put his head in his hands for a long moment, pulling himself together as much as he was able. He rubbed his face aggressively and stood up suddenly, letting the papers scatter. “Right. Fucking right. Send Marius this time. I don’t want to look at his fucking face any more. Send the fucking lot of them. I don’t want to see any of their fucking faces.”

Darko came over to Nigel. Like approaching a feral animal, he held his hands out in warning, taking the last couple of steps cautiously. “You need to go home.” Darko said plainly, looking from the dark bags under Nigel’s eyes to the matching set on Dimitri. “The both of you need to fucking rest.”

Dimitri pinched his nose, scrunching his eyes like the thought disgusted him, but he nodded all the same. “He’s right, Nigel. We’ll sleep. We’ll start up again tomorrow.”

Nigel grabbed at his hair and let out a wrathful sound. He kicked uselessly at the pile of documents about his feet. “Fucking tomorrow. Always with the goddamn tomorrows.” He let out another frustrated noise.

Dimitri rubbed tiredly at the stubble on his chin. He asked quietly, “The fuck else are we supposed to do?”

Darko and Dimitri both looked at Nigel for a response, but none came. He pushed his way between the two men and out the door. With an exhausted sigh, Dimitri turned and followed, Darko close behind.

\---

Adam was sure his body was just one large sore spot, his joints creaking as he was pulled from a kneeling position into a standing one, body trembling from the chill of the water that ran down him in rivulets.

It was time for his daily bath - a time where he often retreated into his mind and tried to get lost in memories of warm Caribbean sunlight and coconut scented breezes while his captors washed him down with a hose. Sometimes they even used soap, though those days were worse because the pure lye soap they used was abrasive and burned his skin. 

Today had been a soap day, they’d even brought out some steel wool to thoroughly clean him. He wondered who they were trying to impress with his body. 

He had no way to know how long he’d been here, he’d lost count of the injections he’d received, and of how much time had lapsed with each one. The injections left him reeling and sick each time he came back to himself. They didn’t knock him out entirely, but it was a near thing: he only held onto a series of jumbled memories, countless faces swimming in his vision, his body contorted into various positions as he was used ruthlessly. He wished he couldn’t remember anything at all. 

Left in this basement hole whenever he wasn’t drugged, his body’s aches and its lingering bruises, many of them yellowing around the edges, were the only indicator of time passing at all. His rim was sore and split, each new cock shoved inside him ripping him open again and again, innumerable cocks stained pink from come and his blood as they were unceremoniously forced past his slack lips to be cleaned. Even after several hours, and a clearing fog, he could still taste copper and the bitter tang of semen on his tongue. 

He cringed away from the new man who entered the room carrying a syringe. He tried to scramble back when the man approached him, but he slipped on the wet stone and ended up sprawled on his back. 

The man who had been hosing him down took the opportunity to kick him in the ribs with the pointed toe of a steel-toed boot. Adam curled inward, trying to escape the kicks that rained down, as well as the approach of the needle he could see glinting in the low light. 

In the end, it was a useless effort, wasted energy as he was held down with a boot to his aching shoulder - he was fairly certain it was sprained - and then injected. 

He waited for the swirling blackness that usually creeped in at the edges of his vision. Waited for the deafness that overtook him as whatever drug started coursing through his system. 

It never came. 

He was groggy and disoriented, but he was still _present._ His body felt heavy and his feet made of lead, but he was able to follow the winding twists and turns they took as the two men led him along several corridors, each one with a hand firmly on his biceps. 

Finally, after several minutes, they walked through a heavy blackout curtain and into a wide room littered with plush couches and chairs. People were scattered throughout, some of them in suits with cigars or glasses of amber liquid hanging from their fingertips, some nude and apparently similarly drugged to Adam. A few men with guns across their chests worked to secure the exits and a few servers moved around with platters of food and drink. 

Adam could see the glazed over expressions on the faces of several of the men and women being guided through the room like him, could pick out which boy thrown across a lap, or which woman on her knees between a pair of suited thighs were drugged out of their minds. 

Is this what they’d been doing with him all these times he’d been injected? Bringing him here to be passed around like a party favor? 

The thought made him feel queasier than the drug currently pounding at his temples. 

They came to a sudden stop and he was pushed to his knees abruptly in front of a gaunt man with paper thin skin and hard, cruel eyes: flat black like those of a shark. Predatory. He sat in a worn leather chair, hands on each arm with his fingers splayed like claws as he peered down at Adam. 

Adam had never been so aware during these sessions. He had no idea what was usually expected of him. 

His limbs fell heavy at his sides, the effort of holding his arms up for even a few seconds left him shaking. It wasn’t a ruse when he let his head dip below his shoulders in exhaustion. His eyes flickered closed but he fought against it to stay conscious.

The man lit up a cigarette before he looked over Adam’s shoulder with a smug smile and spoke in Romanian to the men behind. Whatever he said spurred his handlers, because Adam felt the vicious toe of one of their boots connect with his kidney and he reeled forward with a low, pained groan. 

Hands were on him then, twisting and maneuvering him over and down until his slack mouth was inches from the top of man’s prick.

Someone - either the man or the handler, he couldn’t tell - pulled Adam’s head back and used calloused hands to fish into his mouth and grab hold of him by the teeth. Without preamble, his open mouth was pushed down onto the strangers cock, only stopping when his nose bumped painfully against the man’s body.

Adam’s mind flashed through similar moments, hazier from the drugs, but just as brutal. He’d done this before - _many_ times before. The scratchy ache in the back of his throat had tipped him off, but the flood of memories that slid through his mind as his head was forced to work up and down the man confirmed it. 

The intrusive way the man’s prick poked about his mouth and throat made him want to choke and pull off, though he didn’t have the luxury of a gag reflex to speak of and the hand at the back of his head was bony but firm. 

His lackluster blow job sparked light-hearted conversation between the man and strangers passing by. They laughed and joked between them in Romanian; Adam would occasionally receive an ill-placed slap or grab somewhere over his scrubbed-raw body. He couldn’t remember how he’d reacted to these little intrusions before; he tried not to visibly flinch but the way the men and the occasional woman would touch him without warning made his skin crawl. 

Gratefully, soon the man below him started bucking up into Adam’s raw throat, eventually holding him down hard enough that Adam could barely suck a half breath through the tangled nest of pubic hair. At the back of his mouth he felt the hot salty burst of the man’s release. He did gag then, more psychological than physical a reaction. Tears prickled at his eyes, though only he knew they were in self-pity rather than discomfort. 

The man took the opportunity to ash his cigarette into Adam’s hair before putting it out completely on the exposed skin of his shoulder. He hissed in shock and pain as one of his handlers grabbed the man by the collar and passed him off to a security guard, physically escorting him out of the room. 

Adam wondered if they just wanted to preserve the product. He’d probably make them less money if he died from infection or was covered in disfiguring marks. 

That thought was soon put away as he was being walked back towards one of the doors that led off of the main room and he caught just the barest snippet of conversation from a man and security guard walking past. 

“...figured I’d spend some of my vacation enjoying the many vices I’d heard tale of. Nothing like a Brothel in Bucharest, they say,” the man spoke dismissively and somewhat disgustedly in _English,_ his accent crisp and well educated. 

Adam had no control over his limbs as his arm darted out to grab the man when he got close enough. Adam felt something sickeningly close to hope in the pit of his stomach at the look that passed over the man’s eyes when he took in Adam’s earnest face. He dropped his hand immediately at the hiss of disapproval from his handler, who apologized to the man in broken English before attempting to move Adam around him. 

“Wait a moment,” the man held up a hand, beckoning the handler closer. “Is the boy alri—” he stopped himself and tried again, “is he still available for service?” he inquired.

The handler grunted in agreement, passing Adam over to the Brit, pointing to a blue velvet couch a few feet away. The man took Adam by the arm and led him to the couch before collapsing onto it with a dramatic flair, draping his arms over the arched back and spreading his legs wide in a vagrant display. 

The stranger was slim and waifish but when Adam was forced to settle into his lap, he found himself straddling deceptively firm thighs. The man’s eyes glinted with mischief and Adam couldn’t help but find him attractive in a roguish sort of way. 

He wasn’t sure how to give what would look like a drug-addled lapdance, so he simply rested his hands against the plush back of the sofa, sinking his fingertips into the soft velvet, as he leaned closer to the man. He smelled like soap and coffee and the sharp cold of the outside still clung to him. 

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this, hm?” the man’s voice would have been skeevy on anyone else, but it suited him. Like a well worn coat, this stranger was clearly confident and familiar with flirtation as a means of manipulation. 

“My name is Adam Towers.” he slurred as he tried to speak, his voice cracking from disuse. “I need you to get a message to Nigel Ibanescu,” the man’s eyes lit up at that, but he gave Adam a brief head shake, looking at something over his shoulder. 

“I’m Anthony. Dimmond, if it matters to you,” the man - Anthony - ran his fingertips softly along Adam’s cheek, pulling him close so that his face was tucked into the side of his neck. 

“I’m afraid I need to be a bit rougher with you, lad. They don’t have many rules here, but the big one is no attachments. If it looks like we’re getting too familiar they’ll take you away,” he explained, then slapped Adam hard across the face. Adam saw a handler notice it, then turn around, seemingly satisfied. Anthony pulled his hand back for a second hit, but at the last second stopped, dipping his hand between Adam’s thighs and taking his flaccid cock in hand instead. 

“Sorry, love,” he apologized. 

Adam flinched at the contact. No one had touched him and been concerned about his comfort since he’d been taken. But Anthony’s hand was so soft, and his eyes so apologetic, as he attempted to bring Adam to hardness. 

“No rule saying you can’t get off, darling,” Anthony said by way of explanation, but the endearment nearly brought tears to Adam’s eyes. He _missed_ Nigel. He wanted Dimitri. He wanted his bed back home with too many pillows and soft, warm sheets. 

Anthony didn’t speak again for a while, just focused his attention on Adam’s pleasure, which he was unable to deny was sparking low in his belly. Anthony’s hands felt _amazing_ after so long without a gentle touch. 

“You aren’t like the others here, all strung out on dope and selling their bodies for a fix. They’ve drugged you, haven’t they? How crass.” The man looked troubled, but his hand never stopped moving along Adam’s hardening length. Adam shifted himself forward until Anthony’s hand was trapped between their bodies, leaning close to mouth at the man’s neck. 

“I was taken from Nigel’s club. Can you - Ah, fuck - help me? Please just tell him where I am,” Adam whimpered into Anthony’s shoulder as his entire body drew taut and he spilled his release across his own belly, smearing come into his smattering of pubic hair. 

“There’s a love,” Anthony smiled large enough to show his teeth before reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief. Before either of them could say anything else, they were interrupted by the larger of Adam’s two handlers. 

“He’s been requested elsewhere. My associate can escort you to the bar.” The handler appeared at the corner of Adam’s vision and then he was being hauled out of Anthony’s lap. He didn’t dare glance back at the man as he was led towards one of the exits. 

It was a whirlwind of motion after that. He was wrenched up by his hair from the floor and led through the room. He couldn’t determine a route or a system to when they would stop or when they would pass someone by, and he eventually stopped trying. One cock turned into a half dozen, turned into more. His lips had cracked from a combination of dehydration and the abuse, he could feel them sluggishly bleeding down his chin, teeth stained red. His rim felt swollen and hot and he knew he had torn again after one of the last men had finished with him. 

He thought, perhaps, the injections had been a mercy.

It felt like hours passed before he was thrown down onto the warm softness of a thankfully empty bed. Instinctively, Adam tried to crawl himself into a corner, grabbing at the sheets to shield his nakedness from the rest of the room. He’d lost count of how many men had forced themselves into him, and he was sticky and dripping with cold, spent seed. He had a moment to feel embarrassed at his disarray before he was sobbing into the single pillow at the head of the bed.

The drug was even less effective now, and his body groaned with pain and disuse. He could move with less resistance, but he was scared too for the aching it set off like burning embers deep in his muscles. 

A man he might recognize leaned down and pushed his face into Adam’s still swimming field of view. “One more, lazy boy. Present yourself for our guest.”

He didn’t think too hard about the command, but something in the base of his skull sparked at it; he hated the small voice that told him to obey. He squashed it down and rolled up into a tighter ball and gripped at the sheets.

A low chuckle sounded behind him and a heavily accented voice spoke, “I like them with a little fight.” 

A strong hand gripped at Adam’s bruised hip and easily shifted him over and up so he was presented on his stomach. Adam tried to scramble out of the man’s grip, to where he couldn’t possibly consider, but it was little use. The man behind him used his other hand to securely hold Adam in place, and teased his wet, red hole with the tip of his hard cock.

“You’re fucking filthy,” the man spat, letting his cock slip in and out of Adam’s hole, his rim thoroughly abused and lax enough to let him pass with ease. 

He moved back enough to stuff three of his fingers up into Adam instead, hooking them so they pressed against his sensitive prostate and he felt a flicker of arousal that he didn’t want; his body betraying him at the stimulation. 

“Just like a needy whore, loose and stuffed full of come and you still want more. You’re a greedy, boy.” The man taunted him, lifting him up by his hair and slamming all three of his fingers to the knuckles into his hole. He pulled his fingers out, pushing out a wet wad of seed that dribbled down the inside of his thigh. 

“Open up,” the man said and pushed his dirty fingers past Adam’s cracked lips, rubbing the mess on them against his tongue and teeth. 

It was enough: for the second time that evening, Adam found himself wracked by sobbing cries, kept caught in the back of his throat by come-soaked fingers rubbing cruelly against the back of his tongue. 

He felt a hard slap to his ass and he jolted at the impact. “Mmm, tastes good doesn’t it, whore?” the man chuckled before slamming himself into Adam’s sore ass. Mercifully, he pulled his fingers out from Adam’s throat and wiped the spit and remaining mess off on Adam’s cheek. Adam cried harder, and tried to bury his face into the privacy of the bedsheets. Caged in the housing his arms made, he felt a fleeting sense of protection and let himself fall into the sadness that ached in his chest.

Eventually, his tears dried up and he was left hiccuping, trying desperately to think of anything but the present moment. At some point, he closed his eyes. Noticing this, the man behind him seemed to lose interest in taunting him, and instead set to work using his body to quickly and roughly get himself off into Adam’s insides. His mind an empty void, Adam’s body was maneuvered and jostled around to satisfy the pleasure of the other man. 

When the man did get off, Adam barely noticed save for when he pulled out and Adam could feel the cold that blew on and into his agape hole. Unlike when he was first thrown onto the bed, he made no move to cover himself. He was too drained for such a show of self-respect. Everything felt too hard, all of a sudden. Everything felt a little more useless than it had just moments ago. 

His handler eventually pulled him up and off the bedding, grabbing his arm forcefully so that Adam had to stumble to his feet. The wetness seeped from his hole and made a pink trail down his thigh until it globbed and fell between his wobbling legs. 

He moved numbly through the space, always a step out of sync with his handler, who ungently maneuvered him through the throbbing crowd and towards the back of the room where he’d first come in. Just before they left the club, Adam made the mistake of looking up. He caught sight of the entrance to the small side bar, where a series of familiar men now sat and chatted jovially around their drinks. His eyes skipped over the lot and locked onto Anthony’s, whose face immediately changed at the sight of him. 

Looking now at the ruined shell of the man he’d gotten off earlier in the evening, something broke in Anthony. Adam blinked and stared at him blankly. For the first time since he’d been captured, he felt nothing at all.


	4. Chapter 4

The bare bulb hung from the ceiling, casting long shadows of the men scattered about the sparsely furnished back room.They stood in a semi-circle around the main attraction: a weasely new bouncer who may have had a hand in letting the Russians into his fucking club, if the tip Nigel had received was to be believed. He fumed with unspent rage; he wanted to believe it with everything in him.

Dimitri and Nigel stood at the center, one man slouched down with the weight of his remorse for letting the boy slip by him, the other fuming from the indignation of it. Nigel cracked his knuckles then held his hand out to one of his men on the right. The brass knuckles were placed heavily into his palm.

“Mihai,” Nigel started, walking forward slowly to show off the glint of the metal to the man bound to a chair. “You haven’t been with us long enough to understand what’s about to happen, so let me explain.”

Mihai’s eyes opened wider, taking in his boss prowling before him. His gaze flicked from hand to face and back again seemingly with every heartbeat. He shook from fear, the uneven leg of the chair chattering on the hard cement beneath him. 

“I don’t like to accuse my staff of wrongdoing without sufficient evidence. It’s not good for fucking morale. People tend to get all uppity when we turn on one of our own.” Nigel turned and made his way slowly back to standing in front of the bound man before continuing. “So believe me when I say that my intel on your involvement with Adam’s disappearance didn’t come from some little fucking bird chirping hearsay for a handout.”

Mihai opened his mouth to speak but Nigel was faster. He let his weighted fist fly around, connecting solidly with Mihai’s open jaw. The crunching sound made Dimitri flinch, though he stayed in his place. He’d been in the business longer than any in the room, likely, but he had never become desensitized to the violence. No matter how deserved it may be. 

“You don’t get to fucking speak just yet, darlin’. That isn’t how this works.” He let his fist fall once again into the same bloodied space where the first blow had landed. Mihai cried out and spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor. A knocked out tooth skittered along the cement, landing just shy of Dimitri’s shoe. 

Nigel regarded Mihai, getting up close and holding his face with his other hand to examine the damage done by the metal. The side of his face was quickly swelling, a deep laceration running from cheekbone to upper lip that seeped bright red.

He could feel the anger pulsing just below the surface, his blood was boiling and he hit Mihai again, this time on the opposite side of his face. He could feel the bones shift beneath his onslaught as he rained down half a dozen hits in rapid fire succession. 

Blood was sprayed across his knuckles and along his hand and wrist; his white shirt was a goner. With every new blow he landed he imagined Adam in the back of his mind. 

Several minutes passed with no interruption other than the wet slap of metal against flesh. Suddenly, there was a hand at his elbow and he looked up from his blood haze to see Dimitri. 

“Perhaps now would be a good time to let the boy speak, Nigel.” The man’s words were lighthearted, but there was a cold darkness behind his eyes that Nigel hadn’t seen in him before. It was then that he remembered they were both hurting. Both pissed off and reeling from Adam’s loss. Maybe the man could do with a turn to let off some steam. 

“Go ahead, old man.” Nigel brandished his metal-clad knuckles in offering, but Dimitri simply shook his head. 

He pulled up a barstool and straddled it directly in front of the bloody, beaten lackey. Mihai couldn’t meet his gaze, his socket fractured and the skin already swelling around his right eye. 

“Where’s Adam?” Dimitri asked with a poorly deceived calm that even Nigel, having only known him for a few weeks, could tell barely concealed the seething monster beneath. 

From the little that Nigel had been able to dig up on Dimitri, this wasn’t his first experience with how things worked in a crew like Nigel’s. He wasn’t a stranger to violence. 

“I don’t fucking know!” Mihai spat a wad of blood, a few more teeth splatting onto the floor along with it. “All I did was leave the backdoor open for a friend. I didn’t _know_ they were going to take your fucking whore.” Nigel stiffened, but he needn’t have worried that the slight would go unaddressed. 

Dimitri moved fast. He’d put gloves on at some point while Nigel had been working Mihai over and he watched now as Dimitri thrust several fingers of his right hand into Mihai’s mouth, wrenching his jaw uncomfortably wide. He used his other hand to keep the man’s mouth pried open. 

“Last chance.” His brow perked up, expectantly. The former bouncer looked through his one good eye resolutely at Dimitri and made a sad growling noise. 

“Nigel, your knife please?” Dimitri asked, holding the entire room in a near thrall as everyone watched on in silence. 

Nigel didn’t hesitate, he pulled the knife from his waist and passed it over to Dimitri, curious to see where this was going. 

Dimitri gripped Mihai’s mouth, lodging his finger in one of the gaping holes where a shattered tooth used to be. Slowly, he began to slice from the edge of his open mouth, dragging the knife along his right cheek nearly to his ear. The man struggled against Dimitri’s hold, but any movement only caused more excruciating pain. The sounds he made echoed in the empty room.

When the man had settled enough, Dimitri drove his bloody fingers into the split open flesh of his cheek and pulled it even further apart, before slipping the knife into Mihai’s mouth and cutting through the tough muscle of his tongue. 

There was an uncomfortable shuffling of several men around the semi-circle as Mihai’s wails turned into choked, gargling gasps that spewed blood and spit before him. Dimitri seemingly paid no attention to the anguished screams, working meticulously but quickly to sever the thick organ from Mihai’s mouth. It came out a slick, steaming slug that he threw unceremoniously onto the ground with a wet _splat_.

Nigel looked over Dimitri, seeing him in a new light he had, perhaps, been naive not to consider previously. Of course the older man could hold his own in interrogation. Nigel’d done his homework on him - he knew what sort of men he’d worked for. His mouth clenched tight lest he show any sign of astonishment as he rounded on Dimitri and accepted the slippery knife from his hand. 

Dimitri got up slowly off the stool, once again world-weary and sluggish in the way he moved. The lighting was bad in the back room, but Nigel could have sworn he saw the man shudder however slightly as he stretched back out to his full height.

“Don’t stop on my account.” Nigel lifted the knife back up in offering.

Dimitri rubbed a stained hand over his face, smearing blood around his eyes and cheeks. He shook his head. “He’s not going to talk now.”

Nigel couldn’t contain the laughter that bubbled up from somewhere dark in his chest. He smiled wide for the man beside him and patted his shoulder affectionately. “Fucking right.”

He pocketed the knife and pulled out the brass knuckles again, looking them over. After some consideration, he slipped them back into his blood-spattered jeans. For this, he wanted the intimacy of his hands without the barrier of metal.

Mihai gargled and cried in front of them, his body shaking uncontrollably from the shock of pain no doubt radiating from his cheek and mouth. Nigel looked him over with disgust and spat before he spoke again. “Liars don’t deserve quick deaths, Mihai.”

Mihai, in his agony, shook his head in agreement as though he might slither his way out through belated cooperation. Nigel grimaced at the cowardice before him and let the first blow land hard onto the gash that wept from lip to ear. He felt more skeleton than human against his fist. 

He threw another punch, this time to the other side, watching as Mihai’s head whipped back and forth mercilessly with every blow. Eventually, the man stopped trying to right himself and let his skull flop wherever the force of Nigel’s blows forced it. With that, his pitiful sounds ceased too. Nigel, however, did not.

It was Dimitri that eventually came up behind him and placed a heavy, callused hand on Nigel’s shoulder, shocking him out of the reverie his violence had pushed him down into. Nigel blinked several times at the pulpy mess of the man’s face before him. The gash Dimitri had made had ripped at the edges, and the macerated flesh fell limply onto the man’s blood-soaked jaw. Nigel couldn’t see more than a handful of teeth left in place, several having fallen and landed in the empty cavity of his lower jaw, where his tongue would have once laid.

He was very clearly dead, Nigel realized, several minutes late.

\---

Nigel pulled into the underground garage of his home a little past three in the morning. Dimitri sat beside him with his eyes closed, as though he might be able to sleep after the scene they’d just left.

“Get up, old man.”

Dimitri blinked open his eyes and slid out of the car without a word. They rode the elevator in silence, and quietly worked around each other to settle into Nigel’s apartment. Nigel fixed them drinks. Dimitri changed into sweatpants. 

After the wrongful attempted assassination of Dimitri by some Russian fucker in one of Nigel’s other apartments, Nigel had demanded that Dimitri come to stay with him. For a few nights. _Because I’m not going to look for this fucking kid alone_. After a heated argument, Dimitri had finally relented. 

The first drink he poured was a double. Perhaps a triple, he wasn’t keeping score. The tuica burned his throat like rubbing alcohol, but he finished the glass without hesitation. He was on his third pour when Dimitri emerged from the spare bedroom to take up his own glass. 

Neither of them spoke as they drank, coming to a silent agreement that the events of the night required quiet contemplation.

In reality, both were struck by the same nagging thought that pestered them and made words fail whenever they thought they might finally speak up. This was their last lead. They had nothing else. What _now_? What _next_?

Neither of them were willing to say out loud what they were both thinking in their minds, what the rest of the crew had been thinking since the very first night Adam had been taken. He was dead. Probably at the bottom of a river somewhere by now.

Nigel’s righteous anger had fizzled out somewhere between punch one and one hundred. He felt nothing but a bone deep weariness now, exhausted by the weight of the new knowledge they’d obtained. 

Adam was gone. 

He rubbed his face aggressively, reaching across the table for the other bottle of liquor - this one vodka, Dimitri’s preferred brand. That thought alone caused him enough pause, but in his effort to grab the bottle his bruised knuckles brushed against the equally bruised flesh of Dimitri’s hand where it sat, partially curled, atop the table. 

The simmer of arousal was unexpected and not particularly welcome. Nigel hadn’t even _thought_ about getting laid since he’d been with Adam on that last night. 

He was surprised to look up and see Dimitri looking back, confusion and also something akin to acceptance apparent in his eyes. Nigel couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared a space with another person in the way he and Dimitri had been sharing space the last few weeks. 

He’d grown up poor. Just him and his mother in a one room shack of an apartment with mold in the walls and peeling carpet stained with decades of suspect fluids. After she’d died, he’d been on the street for several years before meeting Darko and eventually joining a crew where he often slept on a cot in the warehouse, staying close to the product he was slinging for his bosses. 

He’d been his own boss now for longer than he’d ever been under the thumb of anyone else. And, besides his marriage to Gabi, he hadn’t shared a home with another person since those tumultuous beginning years of his life. 

It had been surprisingly easy, living with Dimitri. They moved together fluidly in their cohabitation, unified by a common goal and their desire to see Adam safely home, they dulled each others sharper edges and kept each other steadier than Nigel would like to admit. 

With the knowledge that Adam wouldn’t be coming home pressing in painfully at Nigel’s temples, he swiped his tongue over his bottom lip and leaned back in his chair, letting his fingers brush against Dimitri’s again as he pulled his hand back, bottle in tow. 

He took several long pulls directly from it, bypassing the shot glasses altogether, eyes on Dimitri as he swallowed thickly. If he didn’t think too intently on it, he could still feel Adam between them. He imagined Adam would always be there between them, his memory thickening the air around them and echoing in the void he’d left behind. Nigel had known him so briefly, the boy had been gone now for longer than he’d been with Nigel. But Nigel could still remember the way he tasted. The way he sighed his pleasure and arched into every touch. 

Nigel drew his left foot back towards him, allowing it to bump against Dimitri’s bare feet as he pulled it back underneath his chair. 

Dimitri reached out, lightning fast, and took the bottle from Nigel’s hand, bringing it to his own lips and taking a drink. Nigel couldn’t help the low growl that clawed its way up his throat at the sight of Dimitri’s lips wrapped around where his had been mere moments before. Dimitri’s lips curled into a sad smile around the bottle’s end. 

Dimitri looked away when he caught the intense look in Nigel’s eyes, suddenly more shy than his years would presume. He scratched the back of his neck and took another long swig, this time as though in preparation. 

There was little more warning than that: Nigel pushed himself up in his chair and leaned forward. Their knees zippered together, Nigel reached a hand out to catch Dimitri’s own, pulling it down from his neck and lacing his fingers almost tenderly between them. 

Nigel’s head was swimming, a mix of worn down rage, gutting sadness, and a sort of arousing self-pity that bubbled up in him whenever he was faced with the prospect of his own mortality. With their hands interlaced, he tugged Dimitri gently forward, leaning in to meet his lips.

Unlike their touch, the kiss carried no hesitation. A sparking pleasure shot through Nigel upon the first taste, and he pushed himself up out of his chair, crowding Dimitri’s mouth and body with his own. 

Dimitri leaned back into the kiss until he was pushed physically out of his chair and crushed his body into Nigel’s. The hot press of the other man against him made him moan into Nigel’s mouth, his tongue slipping out to probe and search for more space he might invade. 

Nigel pushed back, grabbing forcefully at Dimitri’s shirt to have him closer. The memory of Adam had him smelling the boy on Dimitri’s skin and he visibly shuddered in pleasure after taking a long inhale of Dimitri’s scent. 

“You taste like him, too.” He purred. 

Dimitri stopped abruptly and pushed Nigel back, his eyes searching the man’s face for insincerity. He swallowed around a lump that had been forming all night in his throat. A knowledge that maybe all they had left of Adam was their memories. Nigel nodded, as if he understood: this wasn’t about them. It was a way to remember what they both desperately craved and had lost. 

Dimitri pressed in again, his forehead resting against Nigel’s. They stood there for a moment, Nigel’s hands still twisted up in Dimitri’s shirt, unwilling to let go of the closest thing he had left to his boy.

“Might be more comfortable in a bed,” Dimitri offered into their shared space, exchanging air and breath warm against each other's cheeks.

“You care about comfort, old man?” Nigel taunted, pulling Dimitri towards the large leather couch that took up a significant portion of the center of his living room. He knocked their jackets off the arm of the couch and pushed Dimitri down into the cushions, straddling his lap and trapping Dimitri’s legs with his own knees on either side. 

He hadn’t been in a position like this since his teen years, a desperate time when he’d done what needed to be done in order to not only survive, but move up the ranks. It felt different, somehow, to be here now, with Dimitri; Adam held tight in the places where their fingers met skin and their lips and teeth crashed together. 

Nigel reached between their bodies and cupped Dimitri’s obvious arousal, feeling the other man's length beneath his fingertips. He’d heard Adam tease the Russian before about his large cock, and he wasn’t surprised to find that the man really was packing. To see it in the darkness amidst a tangle of bodies was one thing; to feel it pulse under his hand was altogether something else.

Dimitri moaned and pulled Nigel closer, biting his need into Nigel’s lips as he took his own hand and started unbuttoning Nigel’s pants, occasionally letting his palm brush teasingly against the clear outline of his cock. He wouldn’t linger long on the fact that, apart from Adam, Dimitri hadn’t let another man near him for years. Certainly never without far more intoxicants. Adam had been an exception to his rule, but apparently exceptions extended to his partners as well. 

Dimitri tugged Nigel down onto him, so they lay flat against each other, their bulging interests pressed hot together. Nigel tilted and shifted his hips, pulling from Dimitri a low rumbling noise of satisfaction as his clothed cock rubbed against Nigel’s own. They ground down into each other, their lips caught between teeth and covering rabbiting pulses just underneath the days old stubble along their necks. At some point, Nigel pulled too forcefully at Dimitri’s shirt, a loud ripping noise signalling the end of its life. Nigel took charge of the opportunity presented and littered Dimitri’s furry chest with wet, needy kisses. He sucked greedily upon his nipple, making the man below him grind up and groan.

Dimitri’s hands came down Nigel’s back and around to his front to wrestle with the buttons on his jeans; when opened, he slipped his hands in underneath the fabric and started kneading at the globes of his ass, desperately pushing the other man harder onto his cock. It throbbed and ached with every heartbeat; it had been weeks since either man had even considered getting off. 

“You’re a greedy thing, aren’t you, gorgeous?” Nigel rasped out, reaching between the two of them to grab at Dimitri’s thick length. “Bet you make pretty little noises, just like your boy did. Bet he learned a thing or two from you.”

Dimitri’s face wrinkled and he shook his head, “No, just - stop. Don’t fucking talk. Just - “ he pushed Nigel’s hand into his boxers and moaned audibly at the relief of having skin against skin. “Yes. Like that.” He rolled his head back and closed his eyes, awash in sensation.

Nigel, probably for the only time in his life, actually listened and stopped talking for several long minutes while they simply moved together. Soon, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. And Dimitri growled in frustration, throwing Nigel onto the couch and looming over him, yanking his pants and briefs the rest of the way down his legs and throwing them over the couch and somewhere into the dark room behind. 

Next to go were his own pants and then he was standing naked in front of Nigel, cock hard and aching where it hung heavy between his thighs. 

Nigel wouldn’t consider himself fucking gay, but a hole was a hole was his typical thought. He’d never really sucked cock much until Adam, but he found himself unable to keep his tongue from swiping out against his bottom lip as he took in Dimitri’s full length so close in front of him. The man really was massive, and Nigel didn’t even try to stop the memory from surfacing of Adam speared on his fingers while he took Dimitri’s entire cock to the back of his throat over and over again. 

He didn’t ask before he shuffled forward, pushing the man until he stumbled and his knees hit the large ottomon in front of the couch. As soon as Dimitri was down, Nigel was on him, palming his cock nearly violently before taking it into his mouth and laving his tongue all over the head, sliding his foreskin back to expose him more. 

Unlike their beloved Adam, Nigel _did_ have a gag reflex, and it was immediately set off by Dimitri bumping against his soft palate, forcing the Russian’s cock from Nigel’s mouth before he was chasing it again with his tongue, wrapping his lips back around it and going slower this time. 

“Fuck,” Dimitri cursed, letting his hand fall to Nigel’s head, not forcing him down but just resting there. “You’re far more tolerable with your mouth occupied,” he taunted, holding Nigel’s head more firmly when the other man tried to pull off to reply. 

“Don’t ruin the moment,” Dimitri said, a half smile playing about his lips. 

Nigel chuckled around his head, forcing himself down further. His tongue worked around the length, teasing against the heavy vein that ran down it. He tried to push past his natural stopping point, and Dimirti moaned in appreciation as Nigel managed to swallow down more than half his cock. 

His hands trailed up over Dimitri’s hairy, muscled thighs, appreciating the strength he could feel beneath his fingertips. Even though they couldn’t be less alike, even the differences reminded him of Adam and he swallowed hard around Dimitri’s cock, pushing down the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. His nails dug into Dimitri’s thigh, pulling a quiet growl from the man, who tightened his grip in his hair. 

Dimitri bucked up, causing Nigel’s body to seize around the cock lodged in his throat. He coughed softly, but Dimitri held him down. He tilted his head up to look down at Nigel appreciatively. “Boy needs to teach you a thing or two about taking me, huh?”

Nigel pulled off for real, mock offense painted on his face. He licked his lips wetly. “Mmm, all the more reason to find him then, fucker.”

Dimitri’s smile faltered. He moved up onto his elbows to get a better view of Nigel, laid between his splayed legs. He grew somber as he spoke. “Do you think there’s still a chance?”

Nigel tried to laugh off the bad mood threatening to crowd out the first good thing he’d felt in weeks. “I’m not fucking stopping until we do,” he said, licking from based to top along Dimitri’s cock. “Now shut the fuck up and fuck my mouth, old man.”

Nigel pushed himself down on Dimitri’s cock, a tickling of coarse hair against his nose for a moment before he gagged softly again and pulled back up to a more comfortable depth. Dimitri watched him, quiet for a long moment, but pleasure eventually won out. His arms buckled and he leaned his head back in satisfaction, his hips making miniscule thrusting motions, careful not to feed Nigel more than what he could handle. 

The heat between them grew as Nigel sucked skillfully on Dimitri’s head, but still he shifted uncomfortably, grinding rather unsuccessfully into Dimitri’s leg. 

“Let me see you?” he asked, somewhat sheepishly. Even deep in the moment, he felt a lingering unease with being forward with another man. Other than Adam. 

“Absolutely, darling.” Nigel came up with an audible _pop_ and then pulled himself up to stroke his own aching cock. 

Dimitri looked on, eyes lidded, mouth agape, and he took his own spit-slick cock in hand to stroke languorously as he watched Nigel. “Get up here,” he breathed, shuffling back some onto the large ottoman. 

Nigel let out an appreciative noise and crawled up over Dimitri. Their cocks brushed together briefly before Nigel pressed himself down, moaning into DImitri’s neck as he ground them together. He audibly gasped as he felt Dimitri’s strong grip wrap around the both of them, just barely able to hold them both at the same time. He stroked once and they both moaned in tandem.

Nigel hadn't been this close from so little since he was a far younger man, his body primed for release after so many weeks without it. He placed his own hand over Dimitri’s and moved with him, watching as their cockheads were engulfed by Dimitri’s broad palm and then released as he slid back down. 

His breath came in stuttered gasps of surprise with each mounting sensation, his thighs flexing and tightening around Dimitri’s where he straddled his legs. He reached forward to pinch at the Russian’s pebbled nipples, but he was stopped by a hand in his hair, forcing his head down until their mouths met in an almost painful kiss. Teeth knocked together and scraped over bruised lips until they drew blood. He tasted red in his mouth and he came, suddenly, all of the tension in his body spilling out between him through his cock. 

He looked down to see Dimitri’s stomach covered in the milky white of his release, but the older man hadn’t stopped moving his fist tighter and faster along their aligned lengths. Nigel was already growing oversensitive but he held his tongue and let the man do as he desired. It was only seconds later that Dimitri released a stuttering moan and came across their fists, his cock pulsing nearly violently with his orgasm. 

They didn’t part immediately. Resting and collecting themselves for a few long moments before Nigel finally climbed off of Dimitri’s lap on shaky legs. He moved to gather scattered clothes, surprised mid-bend by Dimitri’s voice behind him, so soft he almost missed the words. 

“He’s most likely gone already.” Nigel refused to turn around and meet the sad eyes he knew he’d find. 

He didn’t speak for several seconds before his body seemed to reanimate itself and he collected his pants. 

“I know.”


	5. Chapter 5

Anthony brushed his hands down the front of his navy-blue pea coat, slipping them into the silk-lined pockets to protect against the chill wind. 

He flashed a smile at the bouncer, a bulky, thick-necked thing that was exactly his typical type, and was let into the pulsing, throbbing room beyond. 

A nude woman - all perky breasts and rosy nipples - draped herself across him and offered him a dance as soon as he walked in. He politely declined, instead inquiring over Nigel. 

She gestured lazily towards the bar with an eye roll and walked away, leaving Anthony to meander across the crowded room towards the man he hoped was Nigel Ibanescu. He wanted to get this entire business settled and return to Florence. Bucharest had been an awful, chafing experience thus far and he was ready for it to be over. 

The man he thought might be Nigel was slumped over the bar, surrounded by a group of discontented guards who kept watch over his shoulders so the pitifully drunk man in the middle wouldn’t have to. 

Anthony puffed his chest up, trying to find the nerve to approach the group. He picked out the least intimidating of the men, and, steeling himself, approached the throng. 

Immediately, he regretted his decision. The unassuming man straightened up at the sight of him coming over, allowing his side arm to peek out from under his suit jacket. 

Too late now. He swallowed hard. “You boys know a Nigel Ibanescu?” He asked as casually as he could manage, catching the eye of the bartender as she passed and motioning for a drink. 

Two of the guards pressed together, immediately crowding his view of the sorry man he assumed was his target. They eyed him in his overcoat and scarf, clearly improperly dressed for the venue where half of the wait staff walked around next to naked and the clientele preferred Gucci to Burberry. 

“Who the fuck are you?” One of the men answered in thickly accented English as though the curl of the words were distasteful over his tongue. 

“Dimmond. Anthony Dimmond, but that doesn’t matter.” He waved his hand dismissively and peered over their shoulders at the drunken form hidden behind their muscles. “I have a message for Nigel. It’s from Adam Towers?” 

The scene around him exploded. Nigel, seemingly half-asleep at the bar whipped his head up and was out of his seat in a split second, elbowing his way past his men to stare Anthony straight in the eye. His gaze darted between Anthony’s eyes, searching. Then suddenly, he growled lowly; the next thing Anthony knew, he had been torn around and folded over the bar, his cheek pressed to the sticky mess that covered its surface. Nigel ground his cheekbone into the wood, his fingernails digging into the flesh of his skull. 

Who the fuck are you.” It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t spoken with nearly as much of a slur as Anthony had been expecting based on Nigel’s appearance. From this close, Anthony could smell the stale stench of alcohol clinging to his clothes and breath. 

Anthony grimaced, trying to open his mouth enough to answer - to say anything at all - but Nigel was pressing down too forcefully onto his head and jaw: moving was nearly impossible.

He moaned his discomfort and looked around wildly. The pressure behind his eyes was astounding. He imagined his head bursting like a grape. 

“What the fuck do you know about Adam?” Nigel tried again, leaning down enough to enter Anthony’s darkening line of sight. 

Anthony tried to make a face to communicate _something_ to the man crushing his skull. His hand had already come up to claw at Nigel’s bare arms, with little effect. Nigel’s grip didn’t falter. 

When the throbbing pain behind his eyes reached a new level of excruciation, suddenly all pressure disappeared. Nigel let go of him with a disgusted huff. He immediately drew his gun. His crew followed suit.

Very slowly, Anthony came up off the bar, a string of sticky residue pulling taut between him and the wood until it snapped and slapped him in the eye. He blinked rapidly, but didn’t dare move his hands anywhere from beside his head where he held them up, empty.

“You get one more chance, motherfucker,” Nigel growled, pointing the gun directly at Anthony’s heart. He could feel it beating faster than it ever had.

“Adam Towers - he told me to find you. Tell you where he is.” The words spewed out of him, nearly too fast to understand. “He’s at a brothel down on Strada Șelari, looks like he’s been there a while. Said you needed to find him. Fuck don’t make me regret trying to help.”

Nigel slammed his fist down on the bartop with a furious growl, sending a glass careening over the edge to shatter on the floor. 

“Fucking Strada Șelari,” he seethed. It was _two blocks_ away from the club. He walked by it nearly daily. Hell, he’d been to an old, empty warehouse there two days after Adam had disappeared, looking for him in all the fucking wrong places. He’d never imagined the Russians would be ballsy enough to hide Adam so close to home. To hide him _in public._

“Fucking go!” He shouted at his men, dismissing them with a sweeping wave of his arm. He holstered his gun long enough to pull the man close and look him in the eyes. “If you’re fucking lying to me they won’t even be able to piece together enough of what’s left of you to get an ID.” He snapped his fingers and tossed Anthony into the waiting hands of two of his security detail. “Keep our guest in the back while I’m gone.” 

Nigel pulled out his phone while he walked to the door. He needed to call Dimitri.

\---

Adam came to like a swimmer breaking the surface after a deep dive; disoriented and gasping for breath. There was a man pounding into him, which he supposed shouldn’t surprise him. What _did_ surprise him was the fact that the man had been allowed to choke him until he passed out, and then still allowed to fuck him. His handlers were usually much stricter about exactly how far they let someone take things. Not out of any care for his comfort or security, but simply because he was a hot commodity they didn’t want too irreparably damaged. 

His skin felt pulled too tight over his bones, the man’s broad, sweaty palms flattened against Adam’s too skinny frame, fingers nestled in the empty space between his ribs in a bruising grip. Below him, he gazed blearily down at the second man buried inside of him, his hips currently still while he let the man behind Adam lead the show for the moment. 

At the realization that Adam was awake again, the man below him tightened a fist in Adam’s curls, stuffing his mouth full with three fingers and spreading his jaw wide enough to _pop_ painfully. The man’s filthy knuckles brushed across Adam’s soft palate and teased against his throat. 

He was covered in various bodily fluids, could still taste the stale flavor of come in the back of his mouth even as the man became more forceful with fingering his throat. 

The man behind Adam stilled suddenly, holding his hips flush against Adam’s ass as he came. Adam’s lips curled in disgust. 

Suddenly, there was a large crashing _boom_ from the front room. All eyes shot up to look in the direction of the sound as gunfire began to ring clearly through the club.

Adam felt a vicious, painful flutter of hope beat a cadence out against his ribs, threatening to clog up his throat with desperation. 

“Get him out of here!” One of the handlers slurred in rapid fire Russian, but Adam knew enough to know that combination of words. _Nigel._ his traitorous mind supplied unhelpfully. 

He didn’t realize he was shouting for Nigel, voice cracked and pathetically broken, until there was a hand covering his mouth and he was smearing an aborted cry of his name into the fingers. The man pushed him out of a side door, through the heavy blackout curtains. He caught him by his elbow as he stumbled into the hall beyond, directing him forcefully along. 

The lights went out halfway down the hallway. He could feel the man reach for his earpiece to call for an update, for backup, for whatever. He acted. Adam elbowed the man with as much strength as his tired, overworked, and undernourished muscles could manage, slipped himself out of the man’s grip and broke out in a run. He didn’t know where to go so he simply ran back the way they’d come. If Nigel were here for him, that’s where he’d be. 

When he broke through the curtain, it was into chaos. Bullets were pinging off walls and embedding themselves into overstuffed sofas, men scattered all across the room in varying states of cover. And _there_. Closer than he’d been in weeks, close enough that Adam could see the nearly delirious gleam in his eyes when he looked up and caught sight of him. Nigel. And beside him, just as righteously enraged: Dimitri. 

He took several steps forward, towards Nigel, towards Dimitri until someone wrenched him back by his hair. He was pulled back behind the curtain and then hauled over tense, muscled shoulders and carried back down the corridor. The man barrelled through the backdoor and Adam got his first glimpse of the outside, a sky so bright with sun that it burned his eyes after weeks of low lighting or near-total darkness. There were sounds of the city, cars rushing by on the street just on the other side of the club wall. 

He was pushed into the back of another car and they were speeding off. 

The scream he’d felt perched just behind his teeth for weeks on end finally shook loose until his lungs ached with it. Hands held him down until he felt the familiar prick of the needle in his neck.

\---

When Dimitri thought upon the half hour or so that followed Nigel’s call, he only remembered it in disjointed action sequences and floods of emotion. Bursting into the brothel, letting out the first shot into the ceiling, immediately swinging his arm around and re-aiming on anyone that looked too comfortable in the space. 

The lurching in his stomach when he thought he saw him - Adam, _Adam_ \- burst forth from the darkness of the back hallway. The disorienting joy of locking eyes on a phantom only to realize they were still real after all this time. The shocking emptiness that flooded his insides as he watched Adam be grabbed and consumed once again by the darkness.

He had run then, bullets be damned, Nigel on his heels and soon overtaking him. He doesn’t remember it happening, but he suspects here, in that dark back hallway, was where someone was shot at close range, spraying him with bits of red gore. It hadn’t mattered at the time; it didn’t matter now. He never bothered to find out who it was. It wasn’t Adam, he knew that. That was enough.

The men spewed out of the back entrance in time enough to see the car spin up and speed away. He caught sight of the license plate, but what the hell good would that do him? As though they would ever get the police involved; as though the police would ever even want to help some thugs settle a dispute.

Nigel barked commands in harsh Romanian, then roared his frustration into the sun soaked back alley. He’d watched him aim his gun and shoot uselessly into the back of the car, not landing a single shot that would slow the vehicle as it zipped out of the alley and onto the street. When the car was too far away, he emptied his clip into the space between them anyway, unable to let his finger off the trigger. 

Then suddenly, there’d been more cars, screeching up to the men, doors falling open as they rolled to a stop. The men split up - Nigel throwing the driver out of the first car, Dimitri sliding into the passenger side of the second. 

In him, a budding hope that now, _now_ they stood a fucking chance. That two against one, one of the cars would be able to find and overtake the other. That Adam would be back where he belonged, no matter the body count. 

Except everything went to shit nearly immediately. They watched the car pull out, and immediately the path was blocked by afternoon traffic. Dimitri could remember feeling Nigel’s fury the way he slammed on the brakes and smashed the horn for several long seconds. No one had given a fuck though. No one could move even if they’d _wanted_ to. They watched the car gain distance from them until the light turned and they could finally maneuver their way out of the alley. 

The soundtrack to the chase had been the rushing blood behind his ears, the uncomfortable gurgling of his unsettled stomach on every turn they took too hard, every pedestrian they narrowly avoided. There was no other sound, nothing that registered for Dimitri, except perhaps what he imagined was his mind supplying Adam’s distant screams. 

For what felt like a decade but was in reality likely only a few minutes, they kept Adam’s car just out of reach. Several cars ahead, one turn too many to not feel confident that the next turn, the next one, the next, might be the time they lost sight of him forever. 

Then Nigel’s car had barrelled ahead, he remembered, had come nearly close enough to backend the runaway vehicle. But the captors swerved unexpectedly left when Nigel was anticipating a right, and it was all over.

They never caught up again. 

Not five minutes later, they lost sight of the car entirely. 

Only from the sour taste still lingering in his mouth was Dimitri aware that he must have thrown up. He’d felt the world tilt and spin as he’d gotten out of the car, and then it was over for him too. He hit the pavement hard with his shoulder, his head falling into the dirty slush that accumulated about the motorways of the city. 

He didn’t remember who he’d shot, or how he’d been hit himself - _a flesh wound_ , he grumbled as he shook off Nigel’s probing fingers - or how he’d managed to come to back at one of Nigel’s many apartments littered about the city. The only thing that seemed to stay lodged in his memory was the sticky image of Adam, breaking through the hallway, only to be lurched back into the darkness again. The moment replayed on loop behind his eyes.

His first solid memory of _after_ ; after they’d found him, after they’d lost him again, was Nigel’s fist colliding with the plaster wall that separated the kitchen from the living space in this apartment, a gaping hole left in its wake. He could see blood, bright like rubies smeared across the white paint and dripping from Nigel’s knuckles. 

He’d patched him up. Because of course, he had. They’d sat in silence, drank a bottle of vodka between them, and then another.

\---

The blood was pooling behind his eyes, making his head burn in the otherwise biting cold of the abandoned church. Adam wiggled his fingers and wrists in his binds, testing their strength. When they’d tied him up, he hadn’t been conscious enough to hold any tension in his body in order to give himself any reprieve when they tightened the knots. His fingertips already pulsed and tingled in turns. He imagined they’d already turned white. 

Adam’s recollection of the _escape_ was disjointed, mostly intentionally. When he awoke from the drug - a stronger dose seemingly than what they’d been giving him before - he’d lost himself to near panic at the realization that he was stuffed inside not the back seat of the car but into the trunk. There was a whipping draft from a bullet hole in the metal, where any heat from inside the vehicle was sucked out and replaced with the bitter cold from outside. Within minutes, he’d been shaking - naked and goosebumped, scrambling in the tight space to try to find the emergency pull that would open the trunk. 

He’d spent a good forty minutes conscious and crammed into the too-small space, barely able to turn over while his mind frenzied. When the car had stopped eventually, and the trunk popped open to reveal Gavrie, not Nigel, not Dimitri, he’d felt his chest crush a little more. 

He’d tried to fight when they took him out, he had. But he’d never been the toughest boy, and weeks in the basement of the brothel with little to eat had seen to any strength he could once have mustered. The three men had overpowered him with a measly amount of force, and transferred him from one enclosed space to another. 

Mercifully, before they’d closed the lid of his second confines, they’d let him drink. He nearly sobbed when he tasted the bitter grit of the drugs that slid out of the bottom of the glass. 

From then on, he’d been quiet. Entirely at home in his little box where he spent the next several hours, bumped and shuffled around. He imagined he must have eventually even slept. 

Now, he swung slightly, upside down, as men shuffled about, angrily arguing in Russian about him, and the blood pooled behind his eyes, making everything dim. 

It was good that Adam had never learned Russian entirely, because at that moment Gavrie and his men were heatedly debating the merits of keeping him alive. The boy had served his usefulness. A man Adam thought of as Shitlicker argued: he wasn’t worth the hassle they’d just had to undertake, let alone any further investment. Gavrie, on the other hand, threatened Shitlicker’s mother if he kept up the dissident arguing, and reminded the group who was in fucking charge. Besides, he reminded them, what’s the fucking fun of killing him if he didn’t at least fucking hurt first?

Gavrie moved over to where Adam hung and looked at him upside down, staring at his bloodshot eyes. For his part, Adam tried to keep his gaze steady, but the pounding at the base of his skull was making it hard not to grimace. 

“You killed four of my men.” 

Adam sniffed. His words slurred. “I’ll try harder next time.”

He expected the resulting backhand, but not the way it made him swing wildly in his ropes. His stomach lurched. He closed his eyes tight against the sensation.

“It’s a pity there’s only one of you. It’ll be hard to make this even.”

He took several hard swallows to keep the bile from falling down his throat. “You always were a creative brute, I have faith in you still.”

Gavrie snarled at Adam, his hand curling tight. The blow never came. Unexpectedly, Gavrie retreated, walking out of Adam’s twisting line of sight.

He emerged rolling a large, round metal tub on its side. A smile cracked his face; he looked the spitting image of a kid gleefully rolling hoops.

The tin tub clattered to the ground beside Adam’s head. Two men grabbed at his ropes to lift him up and slid the tub directly under him. His vision was mostly obscured by metal, only the tops of men’s heads and the ceiling available for him to stare at. 

“We kept you alive because you were profitable. Because it felt like a better punishment than death. But some of my men say I’ve overvalued your worth.” Dimitri kicked the side of the tub. The sound echoed through Adam’s ears. 

A hose was flung into the basin, smacking Adam across his cheekbone. The metal of the edge caught on one of his scabs and set it to bleeding again. 

The rush of the water starting nearly overwhelmed the sound of Gavrie’s incensed raving. He didn’t need to hear it to understand: Adam was fucked. 

He blinked away the spray of the water that caught him in the face as the hose twisted and settled along the bottom of the tub. For a time, no one spoke. They all crowded around the edge of the tub to watch as the water slowly began the fill around its bottom.

Adam’s heart was rabbiting, the staccato thumping sharply in his chest. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself in the face of obvious fuckery.

That’s when the lashes came. 

The first landed across his side and shocked him enough he twisted and spun on the ropes, hitting his poorly healing nose on the side of the tub. 

The second hit like the familiar sting of a leather belt, straight across his ass. His mind flashed, imagining the situation differently. Imagining the tub away, the icy cold from the water wetting his hanging hair gone, Nigel at the other end of the belt, smiling that infuriatingly handsome smile.

The blows rained down faster after that, from all sides, without interruption. He twisted and spun wickedly on the ropes, catching glimpses of the men’s vicious faces as they leaned into each blow. The water was up to his brows now, the rush of the hose occasionally pushing a wave into his eyes. He thought that was when he started crying. 

The wracking sobs that were whipped from his body chewed at his sore stomach and chest. He tensed against the lashings, making every sensation sear over his tight muscles. Then, slowly, they faded, the steam let out of every third hit, then every other, then they were done.

Adam’s head was tilted uncomfortably up to keep his mouth out of the water. He squinted his eyes under the water until he realized that trying to see anything of what was happening above him would be in vain. The water had rushed his ears and made everything muffled and far away. 

He couldn’t get used to the cold, it stung at his bruises, invaded his nose. His breath came out in ragged folded pants. 

For some time, he waited for the next blow. When none came, his attention settled unpleasantly about the water licking at his lips. He blew air up to his chest, each breath harder than the rest. 

He couldn’t keep it up. He tightened his abs and curled himself up long enough to take in a massive inhale. In the brief break from the quiet of the water: laughing. 

Then cold. 

The water crept up, though Adam thought in one plateau of horror that it seemed to take forever. His stomach burned from the effort of repeatedly curling himself up enough to break the surface of the water for another sagging wet breath. Whenever he didn’t think his thin body could pull him up again, the seconds ticked by but there he was again: desperate not to die. 

Until he couldn’t. Until, finally, he lurched up to try to grab another distant breath and sucked in only water. He coughed and choked before realizing his mistake. The water burned his lungs like fire. He pushed out of his mind every effort not to take another sucking breath, his body screaming to do just that. 

He couldn’t hear the vague howls from outside the water. The only thunderous sound was his blood pumping furiously to make it through enough and back to the heart.

He could feel it failing.

He sucked down a gulping mess of water, raging into his lungs and drowning the alveoli.

Again.

His eyes shot open in shock at a sudden knowing that he was about to die. 

Then, for a time, he floated. 

Until the coldness on his chin was air, not water, and he could fold himself over with a last heaving effort to break the surface, coughing and out of his mind. 

The water was beginning to drain. 

“That’s one,” Gavrie said when the water was down past his ears. “Three more to go.”

\---

Adam almost wished they were back in the tub, at least then he’d felt _clean_ and had the aching promise of death. Water was sloshed wet and painfully cold all around them, Adam pressed flat on his belly to the floor as Gavrie pounded into him. 

The man had untied him, using nothing but a threat to Nigel’s life if Adam struggled as a way to keep him pliant on the floor. 

“Bet your little Romanian never fucked you this well,” Gavrie spat on a particularly rough thrust that hit ruthlessly against Adam’s prostate. The Russian clearly intended on forcing Adam to come against his will again, and Adam felt sick with it. 

“Nah, but your dad did,” Adam shot back, unwilling to just sit back and take it without any fight. He might have no autonomy over his body, but they couldn’t touch his mind. 

Gavrie roared his anger and snapped his fingers, calling one of the goons he kept around him at all times these days closer. “Keep his filthy fucking mouth occupied, Darius.” 

Adam was lifted to his knees, body leaned back and Gavrie’s cock never leaving the place it was embedded between his thighs. He increased his pace, spreading Adam wide enough that he felt his hip _pop_ audibly in protest and his muscles groan at the abuse. 

Before Adam could try to frame a retort, his mouth was being filled with what was far too much to be only a cock. He opened his eyes to see Darius’ hairy lower abdomen. The man had two of his fingers stuffed in beside his cock, stretching Adam’s lips taut and causing his jaw to ache. 

“He’s so fucking loose, how about we tighten him up?” without preamble Gavrie was slamming a finger in alongside his cock, hooking it mercilessly and pulling on Adam’s already bruised, bleeding rim. Forcing a second finger in moments later caused Adam’s vision to blackout for a minute, his entire body tense with pain. 

The pace was grueling, and the disgust Adam felt spread through his entire body like ice water. Until now all of his rapists had been nameless, faceless men and that had somehow been easier to process. He’d known Gavrie since they were _children_. Had seen the progression of his cruelty; turning ants to ash with a magnifying glass and the sun as a boy and twisted into this as a man. 

Dimitri must have been so disappointed in the man he had raised. Must have been even more disappointed in Adam for constantly letting him down after all he’d done for him. 

“I knew you were a slut, Towers, but you’ve really let yourself go. Two fingers and my cock and you’re still so wet and loose. Like fucking a woman,” Gavrie snarled, leaning in close so Adam felt his tepid breath at the back of his neck. Suddenly, the man’s teeth were sinking into his shoulder and Adam felt them pierce skin, could smell the sharp copper tang in the air of yet more of his blood being spilt. 

The men gathered around laughed at the words, some mumbling their agreement. Adam tried not to bite down on the cock in his mouth, knowing it wouldn’t end well for him and worried they really would keep their threat to kill Nigel if he hurt any of them. 

Gavrie’s teeth gnashed in his shoulder. He whimpered behind the intrusions in his mouth. He felt the man behind him still, pumping his load into his burning ass. The bulk of it slopped out when Gavrie ripped his fingers away; it globbed wet and sticky onto the back of Adam’s thigh.

Soon, the man filling his mouth pulled out and painted his grimacing face in streaks of white. The man - Darius - kept his fingers lodged down Adam’s throat, hooking them to pull forcefully enough to pivot Adam’s face in the dim light. His body ached. His eyes closed, he let them maneuver him without resistance. 

A second man took Gavrie’s place soon after. Then another at Darius’ place. And so it went, and on and on.

\---

Nigel didn’t sleep for two days after they lost Adam a second time. Eventually, though, the coke didn’t touch his fatigue and Dimitri would find him passed out where he’d been sitting, face pressed against a stack of surveillance photos, drool sticking him to the glossy shots. Dimitri fared only marginally better, refusing the drugs and succumbing to fitful bursts of sleep.

Those two days felt longer than the entire three weeks previous, knowing they’d been so close and letting him slip like water through stones. He could be fucking anywhere again, and the frustration of having to retrace every step they’d taken before wore them thin and easy to argue. 

“Wake up, you lazy shit,” Nigel kicked Dimitri in the shin as he passed, holding his laptop in one hand and chewing the wire frame of his glasses. “Tell me - what about this one?”

Dimitri rubbing the sleep from his eyes and lumbered up on the couch where he’d passed out. He checked his phone - not even an hour had passed. He felt lightheaded from the exhaustion. Still, he straightened up and accepted the laptop Nigel held in front of him.

More grainy surveillance screen caps from God knows where in Romania. They seemed to capture every waifish man between 18 or 35 with dark curls in these videos. Except the one they were looking for. No signs of Gavrie or his crew, either. 

Dimitri huffed his irritation and returned the laptop to Nigel without a word. The two of them sat together, mourning another lead turned dead end. They were surrounded by death, these days. 

The shrill ring of Nigel’s telephone cut through the choking silence. 

“What?” he seethed into the phone, tossing it on the table and flipping it onto speakerphone so he didn’t have to hold it to his ear. 

“It’s Adam,” Darko’s voice sounded from the other end of the line, pulling both men to sit up straight like puppets with strings. “That tip was good, brother. We have photographic evidence of him being taken into an old abandoned church in Ferentari that’s used for some pretty nefarious shit.” 

Nigel hung up before Darko could say anything else, pulling on his jacket and patting the pocket to make sure his keys were there. 

At Dimitri’s shocked hesitation, Nigel whirled on him with a look of painful hope and overwhelming fear. “What are you waiting for, old man? Let’s go get our fucking boy.”


	6. Chapter 6

He’d dreamed of this moment so many times. But never, in any of his dreams, had it felt so heavy, so laced with pain and indecision. 

Ultimately, they found Adam by accident. The tip they received had been accurate, but they’d nearly been too late again. Arriving at the church felt surreal, hazy and dream-like in its own right. So much so that Dimitri thought perhaps he’d taken whatever drugs Nigel clearly had and that he was having an equally bad trip. 

Nigel stumbled into the front of the building, slurring commands in rushed Romanian that Dimitri was only barely able to catch. In the end, he didn’t need to understand. He heard a noise, a low grunting sound, from behind the building and made his way towards it with his gun drawn. 

He wasn’t sure what he expected to find behind the crumbling remains of the church, but it hadn’t been his son fucking into Adam with punishing thrusts while he kept him held up against the ivy-covered wall, Adam’s cheek covered in bruises and bleeding scratch marks that Dimitri could see even from the distance still between them. 

“Dimitri - Dad!” Gavrie shouted, pulling his gun from pants hung low around his thighs, his cock still forced inside Adam while Adam remained still, motionless and nearly lifeless against the wall. Dimitri wondered if the boy even knew he was there, his eyes looked glazed over and hollow. Nothing like the mirthful blue he remembered in his dreams. 

“What the _fuck_ are you doing, Gavrie?” Dimitri was seething, his gun trained on on his son. 

A cruel smile lit up Gavrie’s face. “Jealous, Dad? I’m more than happy to share the little slut before we go on our way. For old times sake.” Gavrie spat, pulling out of Adam but keeping him held tightly against the wall, bringing the gun to brush against sweaty, dirty curls. “Or I could just end this now.” He flipped off the safety on his gun and Dimitri reacted without thinking, pulling the trigger. 

He’d never been a good shot, but his aim was true this time: his bullet lodged in Gavrie’s chest. He crumpled to the ground in a heap, Adam falling with him now that he wasn’t being physically held up. 

Dimitri was moving before he’d even considered it, his feet carrying him to Adam. He dropped to his knees beside the boy, pulling him into his lap, holding him. Dimitri wasn’t a man of many emotions but he could feel fat, salty tears leaking from his eyes and down his cheeks, splashing onto Adam’s face. 

Adam mumbled something that sounded like _is it raining_ before whatever drugs were in his system pulled him under and he went totally lax in Dimitri’s arms. 

He held the boy for several long minutes before he heard the sound of gunfire and cursing from the open back door. Nigel stumbled out, a livid, bleeding mark on his cheek where a bullet had gotten far too close. Another bullet came whizzing out of the back door, embedding in the crumbling brick. 

Nigel shot back several times before staggering over to Dimitri and Adam. He joined the men on the ground, knees falling into a puddle of water pooled in a large, jagged hole in the cement. 

“Is he-“ he started, but Dimitri shook his head, stopping the inquiry.

“Drugged. He passed out in my arms.” It was only then that Nigel seemed to notice the dead body beside them, blood pooling all around where they were all gathered. 

Nigel looked up at Dimitri but didn’t ask the obvious question. They both knew. Dimitri had been forced to choose. And he’d chosen without thinking. He’d always choose Adam.

\---

Light filtered in through gauzy curtains, warming Adam’s skin. He blinked away the sleep from his eyes and laid, looking at the too-bright room. After as much time as he’d spent in the basement of the brothel, it stung as both a physical sensation and an emotional ache in his chest.

He moved his one hand over his eyes to shield some of the light from his retinas. It still felt impossibly bright, but instantly he felt a degree more at home in the artificial dim.

It didn’t come to him immediately that he wasn’t tied up, only that he was warm. When it did, he failed to remember Dimitri at all. He assumed the drugs had just worn off a little too soon. 

He waited for the pain to hit him, but it only came in dull, distant waves. Nothing burned like it did when he woke up mid-session. Nothing stung sharp. Tentatively, he pulled his hand away from his face and tilted his chin to look around. 

At the foot of the bed, Nigel lay passed out and slumped over whatever blankets Adam had kicked off in the night. A trail of drool glistened from his agape mouth to puddle on the fabric. His head lay in the cradle of his arm, hand outstretched to lightly make contact with Adam’s leg. 

When he realized that was what the pressure was, he recoiled, pulling his leg back and scrambling up to huddle himself at the top of the bed. Nigel woke with a start, shooting to standing. All the movement made Adam’s head throb uncomfortably. 

Adam realized too late what he had done. He’d spent too long receiving nothing but violence, his instinct had made him pull away from any small kindness. 

“Nigel?” He asked, voice hoarse from having sucked in mouthfuls of water the evening before. 

The noises - the sudden jostling of the bed, the scraping of Nigel’s chair over the wood floors - brought a concerned looking Dimitri hurriedly into the room.

“Dimitri?” Adam coughed to clear his throat. What should have burned like a scraped knee only felt mildly uncomfortable. He must still be drugged. 

Dimitri dropped the dish towel he was holding. “Myshka,” he said quietly, almost as though he dared not disturb the spectre that was curled up before him. “It’s okay. You’re safe with us.”

Nigel nodded, his hands still raised in front of him in surrender. “Gorgeous. You’re okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

When Adam realized where he was - in one of Nigel’s homes - and who he was with - _not_ Gavrie or his crew - he promptly crumpled in on himself and sobbed. 

The reaction took Nigel by surprise and he climbed up onto the bed to envelope the boy in his arms, as though this comfort would be enough to quell his unease. Instead, it made his stomach lurch and his skin crawl. He began to hyperventilate. 

Dimitri pulled Nigel off, swearing to him in Russian. “Get off him! Get off! Don’t you see it’s making it worse?!”

Somewhat reluctantly, Nigel allowed Dimitri to peel himself off of Adam. Adam scurried further into the head of the bed, then further out, until he was off the mattress and backed into the corner of the room. His mind spun, trying to process what was happening.

“Gav- Gavrie?” He choked out, his words coming out as hiccups between clenching sobs. 

Nigel whipped around to look at Dimitri, who stood stoic and tellingly quiet. 

“He’s dead,” he supplied, without emotion. 

Adam’s gaze scattered about the room, unable to land on any feature long enough to take it in. _Dead_. Dead, his head echoed. The word looped back through his mind until it lost its meaning. 

Nigel made to move a few steps forward. “Nigel, back the fuck up and give him some space.” 

“What do you need, myshka?” Dimitri asked, this time with more intonation and concern than he’d previously mustered. 

Adam shook his head blankly, scratching at a scabbing wound at the back of his head. What did he want? _What did he want_. 

The question made the tears fall anew.

\---

Adam felt like his skin was too tight and he was stretched too thin. After weeks of being passed around, of being used up and tossed out, it was too much to be with men who loved him. Darko had been the last straw.

The man had arrived late into the evening on the third day and Adam had absolutely lost it. He’d destroyed the bedroom in his effort to hide. He felt like a wounded, desperate animal and he _hated_ it. It clawed at the back of his throat and made his mouth feel like sandpaper. 

Nigel left temporarily after that. Gone with Darko to discuss whatever business needed discussing, and that had been worse, somehow. Being alone with Dimitri was overwhelming; guilt, and need, and a choking sort of love all swirling together in Adam’s stomach and making him sick with it. Dimitri had killed his only son to save Adam. And when, Adam wondered, had that level of love been reached between the two of them? _It hurt_. It hurt in the way only real, truly deep love can hurt. And the guilt was suffocating. 

Dimitri knew. Or at least he’d made a guess at what was setting Adam ill at ease. Adam was pretty sure he assumed it was only the loss of Nigel, and that only added more guilt to the mountain of it he was buried under. He couldn’t even begin to try and navigate the twisting, dangerous mental pathways of that relationship. 

After twenty-four hours, Nigel came back. Adam thought Dimitri must have called him, late in the evening when Adam hadn’t let himself sleep for nearly two days. Everytime he closed his eyes he saw blood. He saw the cruel, ugly faces of a countless flood of men; saw water and felt it fill up his lungs. Sometimes he’d gasp himself out of a very light slumber, barely on the edges of sleep before he was hauled back by fear into waking. 

“Kid, you’ve gotta sleep,” Nigel had spoken so softly, so timidly. And Adam hated _that_ more than he’d ever hated anything. He wasn’t some simpering, weak, broken thing that needed careful, gentle hands and soft words. The kindness in Nigel’s eyes was suddenly too much; Adam let out his rage. 

“Get the fuck out. Both of you, go!” He’d screamed, throwing anything within reach at the quickly retreating men. He heard the door shut, and even that was a soft sound, clearly meant to keep him from becoming spooked. He destroyed the hastily repaired bedroom a second time before moving on to the rest of the house, shattering every plate, every glass he could find before crumpling to the ground in the kitchen. His palms and feet and knees were sliced open on the shards that surrounded him, but he didn’t feel anything as he curled up in a corner, tucked between the cabinets and the stove. Then, he’d cried. Ugly, sobbing things that clogged his throat and left snot running down his nose and dried salt crusted against his cheeks.. 

That was how Nigel found him: rocking himself in a self-soothing gesture, bleeding onto the off-white tile of the destroyed kitchen. The man hadn’t even hesitated, he’d fallen to his knees beside Adam and pulled him into his arms, uncaring of the glass that now cut into him as well. A bond made from blood and tears and a combined, heavy sorrow that weighed them both down and left them broken. 

It felt like hours, like days had gone by before Adam finally tried to speak, his voice cracked and thick with sorrow. “Dimitri’s gone, isn’t he?” What he didn’t say, didn’t give voice to, were the traitorous thoughts that sang like a chorus in the back of his mind. _He left me. He hates me. He won’t come back. Why would he even want to?_

Nigel seemed to pick up on the words he didn’t speak because he only held Adam tighter, close enough that Adam could feel the rumble of his words as he spoke. “He’s right down the hall in the apartment next door. We thought it might be easier if you had less people.” 

They were right, of course. Adam knew they were right. But it still felt like a knife turning in his gut to admit it. He wanted Dimitri, but he _needed_ Nigel. Needed to know he was still here, after everything. That he was real and this wasn’t just a fever dream. That he hadn’t drowned in that fucking tub while Gavrie had watched on and laughed. 

He clung a little harder to Nigel, which momentarily startled him, though he quickly adjusted and scooped Adam further into his grasp. The two sat wrapped around one another for a long time, long after Nigel’s legs fell asleep, long after the blood stopped running from Adam’s various injuries. As far as Nigel was concerned, they could sit there all fucking night. If that’s what Adam wanted. 

That night, when Adam felt at once too exhausted to stand and too strung out to sleep, he got out of bed. He kept himself extra quiet, tiptoeing to the bedroom door, which was firmly closed. 

He wasn’t sure what he needed, only that he couldn’t stay a moment longer in that room. He put his ear to the door and listened intently for any sign that Nigel might still be awake. He may not want to be in this room, alone, but that didn’t mean he needed Nigel’s concern again so soon after the incident in the kitchen. His skin still itched from where Nigel’d insisted on cleaning out the deeper wounds, Adam’s thousand yard stare reflective of the distance he tried to cultivate between himself and his body as he was touched. 

Beyond the door: only the quiet snuff of an occasional snore. Silently, he turned the knob to open it. 

Nigel didn’t stir. He laid sprawled out over the oversized couch, his one leg hanging out from under the thin blanket that covered the rest of his body. He had drooled here, too, Adam noticed with the briefest wisp of affection. 

He stood at the heart of the room for some time, taking in his proximity to the other man. At last, he shuffled over towards the couch, dropped quietly to the floor just below where Nigel was sleeping, and curled himself into a small ball. 

When Nigel woke, several hours later to the sound of street noise picking up outside, Adam was still there, asleep and huddled into the same position.

\---

Dimitri came in hesitantly, carrying two espressos and the local newspaper. He stopped dead when Nigel flailed at him from the couch, indicating with wild pointing noises the sleeping mass below the couch. Nigel hadn’t moved from off the sofa, afraid the leather’s creaking would be enough to wake Adam from the first good, solid rest he’d had in a week.

Dimitri tried to quiet the door as it swung shut, but with his hands full, his toe narrowly missed the edge of the door and a loud _click, thump_ echoed through the silence. 

Adam burst awake, up on his feet immediately and looking around frantic to process the scene. He calmed measurably when he took in Nigel, still in boxers and wrapped in a blanket, swearing under his breath at the fucking door. 

“Hi,” he said, which had been about the first words he hadn’t screamed or cried at the two men during his residency. The two looked at him and then to each other, as if dumbfounded on how to reply. 

Finally, Dimitri moved to action, setting the coffees down by the door and walking cautiously over to Adam. 

“Hi.” His voice cracked with the weight of what was held within the single word. “Hi,” he repeated, and then gave a little smile. 

Adam tried to return the expression, though how much of it reached his face, he wasn’t sure. Dimitri seemed to understand all the same, nodding once at him with encouragement. 

“Got any for me?” Adam asked, making a weak motion towards the coffee on the hall table. 

Nigel ran his hands through his hair, amazement sparkling in his eyes. “You better believe you can have mine.”

\---

Nigel knew Adam wasn’t ready for the outside, even if Adam stubbornly refused to admit it.

“I want fucking Thai from the place down the street, Nigel. It’s not like I’m asking to go to Paris,” Adam seethed, pacing in the room. The air was sucked out of Nigel’s lungs at the mention of Paris, the reference stung in a way that Adam would never understand. 

_Paris._ It would be too soon if Nigel never fucking heard the word again. The flashing memory of their failure to find him there, when he’d been so close to home, was blinding and painful to look at too closely. 

“Darling, I know you’re restless, but I just think -” Adam huffed, cutting him off by throwing himself dramatically onto the couch. 

“I know what you bloody think, Nigel! You think I’m weak. That I’m fucking used up. Broken. Fuck that and fuck you for thinking it. If I don’t get out of this house I’ll blow my goddamn brains out.” 

Nigel understood, he did. But the tone, the threat, all of it rankled him in a way that made his sharpest edges even sharper. He’d been softening himself for Adam for nearly four weeks now, long enough for one year to roll into the next with a noticeable lack of celebration from any of the men currently feeling trapped inside the house. Claustrophobic with the weight of their combined emotional baggage. And their aching regard for one another. 

“Fucking fine, cocksucker. You wanna go out, go the fuck out! I’m not stopping you or fucking saving your ass.” Nigel knew he’d fucked up before the words were even finished fading from his lips, bitter and acidic where they dropped. 

Adam got that shuttered look that he sometimes sat with for hours, his eyes going dark as he went somewhere so far away Nigel felt like he could never reach him. Nigel went to his knees beside the couch, not touching Adam, never touching him, and tried to apologize. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it…” 

Adam nodded absently. The fight blew out of him and his gaze locked on something Nigel couldn’t see, couldn’t possibly fight for him. And wasn’t that the fucking rub? Nigel’d never even felt this helpless as an orphan on the street, doing shit jobs for scraps. He didn’t know how much longer they could run like this before everything broke down. 

He sighed, snatching up his phone from the glass coffee table and making a quick call to one of the new kids on his crew, tasking him with picking up an order of one of everything from the local Thai place. He didn’t want to ask Adam what he wanted right now. 

The silence wasn’t even oppressive for the next hour, it was far too insidious for that. Nigel felt it deep in his bones, under his skin like an itch. The knock on the door was almost deafening and Adam’s visceral reaction was the most painful thing for Nigel to watch; the boy jumping nearly out of his skin and scrambling halfways behind the couch in an animal crouch, eyes scanning the room for threats before he could catch himself. 

Nigel grumbled under his breath, he should have told the fucking kid not to knock. He opened the door and ushered the boy in fast, trying to get this over with quickly so he could try and get some food in Adam and convince him to lie down for a nap. 

Adam composed himself, brushing wrinkles out of Nigel’s oversized sweater that he’d taken to wearing. . It was meant to be casual, but Nigel could see the tense pull of his shoulders up towards his ears, the taut set of his jawline and the haunted look in his eyes. 

“Fuck, he looks like shit.” Nigel had been pretty sure he didn’t have any fucking _idiots_ on his crew, but apparently their entry requirements had gotten lax while he’d been distracted. He turned to look at the boy as he heard Adam let out a small sound of distress when the kid had the fucking adacity to reach out like he was going to touch one of the deeper cuts that still marred Adam’s face and neck, some of the bruises that still lingered in shades of nicotine stained yellow around his eyes as his body fought to heal him without the right combination of sleep or food. 

“Don’t fucking touch him!” Nigel growled out, barreling into the idotic lackey and throwing him over the couch so that he crashed into the coffee table, shards of glass shattering and spraying up into the air, tinged in red. 

And suddenly, all of the pressure of the last several weeks, all of the rage and helplessness and fear rose to the surface and Nigel was on the boy before he could even whimper out a pained breath, his fists connecting with his face over and over until he was a swollen, bloody mess, barely recognizable as human. 

A hand on his shoulder was all that stopped him from beating the kid to death. Nigel turned with his fist raised, ready to keep going, when he saw Dimitri standing directly behind him and Adam tucked in the corner of the room with a horrified look that fizzled out Nigel’s rage like a snuffed out candle flame. 

Nigel wore the kid’s blood like a splatter painting. His knuckles were split open, his knees sliced up by some of the nastier pieces of glass. Dimitri helped guide him to his feet, putting his body between Adam and Nigel to block the boy from some of the worst of it. 

“I think you need to go, Nigel.” 

Nigel couldn’t even look at Adam as he walked out the door, fear and an animal sort of distress still bubbling in his chest. His mind swam with apologies, but he didn’t speak. He was worried about what might come out if he tried.

\---

Adam shivered, his body reacting to the violence dragged bloody across the tile of the apartment floor. Dimitri had shouted at Nigel, in his muted way so as not to disturb Adam while still conveying his utter discontent for the man, to take the boy with him. Where the boy’s head had smashed against the floor was a small puddle, pulled through to the door.

Dimitri had slammed the door behind them, swearing under his breath.

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri began, turning around and marching into the kitchen. He set to work grabbing dish towels from the kitchen, messily soping up the puddle, then smearing it further around the white tile. 

He looked helplessly up at Adam, his hands now stained with the boy’s blood. He was making a fucking mess of things. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, then said it again.

Adam turned on his heel and went into the bedroom. His body crumpled into the nest of blankets. His chest hurt like he was about to cry, but his eyes stayed dry, which felt at once a relief and a punishment. 

Several moments later, Dimitri shuffled into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. He put his hand out, as though he were about to rest it on Adam’s thigh, but hesitated. As if calling himself out on his cowardice, he clapped down harder than intended, making Adam let out a small gasp in surprise. 

“Sorry.”

Adam closed his eyes, waiting for tears. Now that the sudden shock of it had passed, he liked the weight of Dimitri’s strong hand on his body. His own hand snaked down slowly and clasped at him, tugging him forward until he could do nothing else but curl down onto the bed beside Adam.

“Is this -” Dimitri cleared his throat. “What do you want, myshka?” Dimitri rephrased. 

Adam shimmied his bottom into Dimitri and pulled his arm to wrap around his chest. “Just lay here with me.” 

His voice was distant, even to his own ears. Despite the need to have Dimitri pressed up against him, to feel something warm around him, his mind seemed to blank out at the physical contact. He could be mentally close, or physically, but both were too much to ask. 

He made his decision and gripped harder onto Dimitri’s arm. He could feel his shallow, worried breathing on the back of his neck. Neither of them spoke. After some time, they slept. 

Adam’s stomach cut through Dimitri’s fog slowly, the physical rumbling vibrating his hand that laid heavy on his stomach. He pulled it back along Adam’s body. His caution lost to sleepy haziness, he nuzzled in deeper into the curve of Adam’s neck and breathed him in recklessly. Being this close to Adam for the first time in weeks made him dizzy. It felt almost like a memory, barely real despite the way he curled into him and touched him from chin to toes. 

A simpering whimper escaped Adam’s lips as Dimitri trailed his hand slowly up and down the boy’s side. He felt boney - too skinny - _damaged,_ his mind supplied. His chest suddenly felt tight and he stopped his hand. 

“Mmm, don’t stop,” Adam murmured, his head tilting back to beckon Dimitri’s lips back onto his skin.

He mouthed at the tender skin of Adam’s neck, sucking small bites into the yellowed bruises that littered his body. Adam sighed, content, and pushed Dimitri’s hand so it traced little patterns along the side of his torso. Goosebumps erupted behind Dimitri’s touch and spread across his side, prickling the pink nubs of his nipples. 

Adam suddenly shifted, turning himself over so they were face to face. Dimitri looked through heavy-lidded eyes, wanting desperately to press his mouth against Adam’s own but holding himself back. Adam’s eyes scanned Dimitri’s close face, the shared air hot between them. 

“Thank you.” Adam’s eyes blurred and a tear ran heavy across his face, tickling by his ear where it pooled. “I know what you did for me.” 

He looked at Dimitri, nodding through the tears. The lower part of his lip quivered. It pierced Dimitri through and before he realized his face was wet as well.


	7. Chapter 7

Nigel hadn’t been this viscerally angry since he’d watched the life drain out of the fucking kid who’d let Adam get taken. It sparked, like a physical ache, all across his skin: static before a storm. 

He hadn’t even wrapped his hands before he’d started wailing on the heavy, weighted boxing bag, relishing the recoil every time his bruised, bloodied knuckles made an impact. Darko stood silently in the corner of the room, drinking beer and watching Nigel with eyes that saw far too much. 

It had been years since Nigel had first taken up boxing after a throw away argument with Gabi where she’d accused him of needing a place to vent his rage. He hadn’t taken her seriously at the time, but six more months and hundreds more fights found him drunk and angry enough to slam his fist into the wall by her face. He’d bought his first boxing sessions the next morning. Years later and boxing was still the place he went to escape from the noise, where he funneled all of his aggression and anger into something more or less productive. 

Helplessness wasn’t an emotion Nigel was familiar with. But Adam made him soft, vulnerable. Made him _weak._ Nigel hit the bag again, form near-perfect, even through his anger. 

Six days since he’d last seen Adam. Six days of anger, of remorse. Six days since he’d heard his voice; since he’d held him while he slept. Dimitri had tried to reach out a few times, but Nigel didn’t take his calls. He couldn’t handle the disappointment. 

“Brother -” Darko tried after twenty minutes of the incessant _tap tap tap_ of bare skin slapping against the leather bag. Nigel growled, cutting him off before he could say another word. 

Another half an hour passed, Nigel’s knuckles torn and swollen, flecked with blood. This time, he felt Darko at his back before the man even tried to speak. A beseeching arm at his elbow had him stalling his next punch but rounding on the man behind him, pushing him hard enough that he staggered and fell to the floor, his elbow slamming painfully onto the hardwood. 

Nigel followed him to the ground, mounting his hips like a feral beast about to rip the throat from his dinner. Knowing eyes stared at him, waiting. The thing that fucked him up the most, the thing that finally pulled him out of his self-pitying shame spiral, was the fact that Darko would have let him. 

At that, he slumped forward, falling heavily on top of Darko. He laid there, limp and in a daze, his breathing haggard, for longer than either of them would ever admit outloud. Tentatively, Darko wrapped his arms around his best friend. Nigel let himself break: fat, heavy tears rolled down his cheeks as his body shook with silent sobs. 

“It’s okay, brother. He’s okay.” Darko tried to soothe him, but the words felt hollow and tasted like ash in Nigel’s mouth.

\---

Adam woke in fits and starts, his body twitching against Dimitri’s for several long minutes before his eyes ever flickered open. Dimitri had never been a poetic man, had never really stopped to consider beauty as a concept. Until Adam. The boys eyes were the same roaring blue-green of the ocean tides, and just as full of danger of late. He’d seen those eyes washed out in tears, had seen them shot through with jagged red lines after days of no sleep. Had seen them go flat and dark and lifeless when something had reminded him of _before._

It had been a month since Adam had been home, and now a week since Nigel had left them, and still Adam sometimes looked gaunt, too thin like rolling papers or moth-eaten sheets. This morning his eyes looked placid, and Dimitri let himself sink into them for a while before Adam’s croaky morning voice broke through the silence shared between them. 

“Why won’t you kiss me?” He asked bluntly. Dimitri traced the soft bow of Adam’s lips with his eyes, unable to touch him. Fine cracks cut through the pillow of his flesh, unable to fully heal from the malnutrition when most days Adam still found no meaning in food and drink. 

“You know why,” Dimitri finally replied, breaking eye contact and rolling onto his back to stare up at the off-white ceiling above them. Swirls of nicotine stains crawled across the paint like bruises. 

“I know you think I’m fucking broken.” Adam huffed when Dimitri didn’t turn to look at him again. “Dimitri, I’m not.” Desperation tinged his voice.

“I don’t think you’re broken, myshka. I don’t kiss you, I don’t touch you, because _I’m_ not ready.” It wasn’t a lie, but still only a half-truth. Dimitri didn’t kiss Adam because he was terrified. 

Adam’s eyes grew dark and shuttered but he kept his eyes trained on the side of Dimitri’s face. “It’s not like they were _kissing_ me while they were raping me and beating me.” He paused, then added, “Daddy?” 

After so long without hearing it, the word shot a bolt of pain through Dimitri’s chest and stomach, forcing him to close his eyes to keep his calm. 

Adam pressed on. “I thought I’d lose track of their faces. But sometimes I see them, hovering just on the edge of a memory. When I close my eyes to try and sleep. When I’m in the shower. Eating breakfast. _Lying here with you._ ” He whispered the last part so softly that Dimitri almost missed it. He tried not to cringe openly, tried not to pull away from Adam’s seeking hands as he scooted closer and wrapped an arm around Dimitri’s middle. 

“Gav-” he stopped, a dry sobbing sound shaking loose from his throat as he tried to swallow around the name. “Gav barely touched me until the end. I think-” he paused again, taking a few breaths. “I know he was going to kill me. You saved my life, Dimitri.” 

Hearing his name from Adam’s lips was even sweeter than hearing him call him anything else could ever be. “There wasn’t a choice, _zvyozdochka_.” Dimitri shifted so he could wrap around Adam, pulled him tight to his chest. He felt Adam’s body shake with his tears. 

"Kiss me." 

"Adam-"

 _"Kiss me."_ Adam said again, his brows furrowed slightly in frustration.

Dimitri pet the side of Adam's tangled hair. His eyes welled. "I can't-"

Adam leaned forward, smashing his mouth forcefully against Dimitri's. Their teeth hit, a loud clacking noise, though neither pulled away. Adam instead softened his approach, his tongue darting between them to line the edges of Dimitri's teeth, insistent in his need to enter. 

Dimitri's head felt full of fire, his cheeks burned with it and the sensation tickled down his neck and burst forth low in his belly. He opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, his hand weaving into Adam's hair.

"Daddy," Adam whispered, a smile bursting across his face. If he'd seen such genuinely positive emotion from Adam since… well, he couldn't say. Satisfaction erupted in him, making the inside of his thighs begin to ache.

Adam tilted his chin, exposing his neck to Dimitri's soft nips and delicate sucks. He wanted to lay his lips all over his skin, kiss away bad memories and replace them with only him. Adam, for his part, moaned quietly, receptive to the idea.

He felt Adam's hand travel along his side, grab greedily at his firm ass. Dimitri allowed himself to be pulled in, his clothed erection singing sensation where it brushed up against Adam's thigh.

Adam arched, curving in delectable ways to run his own cock against Dimitri's. It felt familiar, nearly comfortable the way his ache magnified against the boy's ministrations. He remembered fucking into this little body, breaking loose to fulfill baser needs, greedily taking from his overly willing companion, using the body beside him until his asshole ran white and he shook from overstimulation.

He wanted that. Wanted to forget what had happened these last few months. How many other men had used his boy in ways that made him sick to contemplate.

"Want you to fuck me," Adam breathed into Dimitri's mouth, where the words fell onto his tongue and absorbed like a drug. His body reacted before his mind could, the skin along his naked sides prickling in anticipation of the pleasure he could find in Adam. 

Still, he hesitated. "Have you…" he paused, wondering the best way to phrase the question. "You haven't been tested yet."

Adam pulled away and for a moment looked like he was about to unwrap his body from Dimitri's. He swallowed, prolonging the silence. The veil of lust lifted for a half second, where Dimitri could see something vile, something mournful and angry flick its barbed tail in displeasure.

"Let me suck you then," he offered, at once wrapping his hand around Dimitri's girth.

Dimitri's heart fluttered, though for all the wrong reasons. He couldn't stop his eyes from slipping to take in Adam's cracked and chapped lips. The sores that wouldn’t heal for Adam’s lack of self preservation.

He covered his face in borrowed embarrassment. "I'm sorry." 

It took a second for the implication to register with Adam but when it did it hit hard. Damaged. At least, until further notice.

"Use a condom," Adam said quietly, as though the suggestion itself hurt him. He flopped himself into his back, slipping off his boxers and stroking his half-hard cock.

Dimitri got up to rummage through his wallet. If he waited a beat too long before getting up, neither of them acknowledged it. He shucked his own briefs off, ripping the packet and stretching the sheath tight over his throbbing cock.

Adam snapped back to himself at the sight, clawing his way towards Dimitri, his tongue darting over his lips. He looked especially beautiful on all fours, crawling over to lick against the tasteless plastic. 

The way his tongue lavished over DImitri’s cock made the man groan immediately. From below, an impish grin, before he opened wide to take Dimitri in. The girth of his cock made his mouth stretch wide, an obscene sight that Dimitri hadn’t admitted just how much he’d missed. 

He rocked his hips a bit, seeking more. Adam hummed around his head, looking up with a satisfied glimmer to his eyes. Broken things don’t give head this good, Adam thought. 

Dimitri rocked again, teasing the back of Adam’s mouth, as if asking for entry into this slick throat. Adam closed his eyes and let it happen, relishing in the thought of bringing Dimitri shaking to the bed with only his mouth. 

But then Dimitri slid in, like he’d slid in dozens of times before, blocking his airway and plugging him up with his thick cock. Except, unlike every time before, the second Adam couldn’t breathe was the second the panic set in. 

He blinked back the tears that sprung to his waterline, coating his lashes, determined to show himself how unbroken he could be. With every thrust though: another stab of terror, another memory of being slowly choked by the water, by those nameless cocks, by Gavrie’s crew fucking around with him for shits and giggles. Every time his palate blocked his airway, he had to force himself not to scramble away and retreat from the damage.

He began to shake, slowly at first, and then with more force. Dimitri pulled out, concern wiping whatever pleasure had been there only seconds before. “Myshka - Adam?” 

Adam shuddered visibly. “No, it’s okay. I’m okay.” He scrambled to pull Dimitri back into his mouth, wiggling his ass appreciatively when Dimitri reluctantly allowed his lips to wrap around his head.

But when Adam tried to take him in deeper, he immediately gagged, a wicked sound that felt entirely unfamiliar coming from him. He furrowed his brows to try again, with the same result.

“Adam, it’s okay.” Dimitri’s voice was gentle, less husky than it had any right to be, Adam thought. That simply wouldn’t do. 

Adam shook his head. “No, no, I’m fine. _I’m fine,_ ” he restated, giving Dimitri a look that very nearly said ‘try me, motherfucker, I’ll show you I’m fucking fine.’

“Just - fuck me.” Adam nodded to himself, still shaking. “Yes, Daddy, please. I need your big cock to fill me up. Show me how real men fuck, Daddy?” 

In his voice: an edge of hysteria. 

Dimitri let a tear fall, unnoticed. He shook his head once, then again more purposely when Adam reached to pump his faltering erection. With as much tenderness as he could manage, Dimitri placed his large hands over Adam’s to still him. 

“No, Adam. Not like this.”

Adam looked to protest when another violent shiver took him. He huffed loudly, whipping his hand away from Dimitri’s warmth. Dimitri watched the transformation before him in real time: the way the distant look shrouded Adam’s eyes, his body stilling long enough to turn to stone. Then without warning, he snapped. He whipped around the bed faster than Dimitri had seen Adam move, grabbed the lamp and hurled it in Dimitri’s direction.

“Get out,” he said once in warning, then immediately started up a chant that grew louder with every iteration. “Get out! Get Out! GET OUT!”

Dimitri ducked out of the way of the lamp, then the pillow, then the tv remote that ricocheted painfully off his held up forearm. When Adam had little left around him to throw, Dimitri seized his briefs and slipped out the door, closing it just in time to feel it vibrate as something solid smashed against the wood.

\---

Adam heard the raised voices coming through the banged up bedroom door and knew that Nigel had finally arrived. He’d been gone for eight days. Ever since the day he’d nearly killed a boy for getting too close to Adam, for upsetting him.

Even when Adam had upset Nigel that very same morning. He’d woken up hard, just like he had this morning with Dimitri, and had tried to initiate sex with Nigel. While Nigel had been less interested in whether Adam was clean, the outcome was ultimately the same: they hadn’t had sex. 

Nigel had told him no and, like a petulant child, Adam had decided to go to the _other parent_ in order to try and get a different response. He felt sick with it, manipulative. No better than the men who had fucked him when he didn’t want it, his brain screamed at him. He knew, logically, that it wasn’t the same. 

He hadn’t actually forced them to even touch him. But he’d tried to get around their concern and apprehension through omission and stubbornness. He’d known he wasn’t ready, but he so desperately wanted to show them he was _fine_ and that he could be a useful, functioning person again. 

They’d given him a phone on one of the first days he’d been back but he’d put it away in a sock drawer and not looked at it again. He didn’t have anyone he wanted to see besides the two men currently in a heated discussion in the living room about how _fucking stupid can you be, fucking Russian prick_ but he needed the phone now. He had something he needed to do.

\---

“Thank you for doing this, Darko.” Adam was tucked so close to the passenger door in the car that he could feel the divots in his skin where the handle had already made an impression.

Darko huffed. “Kid, if this helps sort you fuckers out, I’ll consider it a goddamn favor.” 

Adam laughed, an honest, bright sound that felt foreign in his mouth, made him feel too full, like he might burst at the slightest touch. He could see Darko looking at him from the corner of his eye. “I appreciate your lack of tact, Darko. Nigel and Dimitri have been impossible to live with.” 

“Right.” Darko laughed too, shaking his head. “Here we are.” 

They parked on the side of a small, nondescript building with dirty blonde brick that looked grey in the fading light of the evening. It was only a few minutes before closing, but Adam hadn’t wanted to be forced to wait. He didn’t think he could sit in one of the plastic, hospital waiting room chairs and fill out paperwork and have people _looking_ at him while he waited to be seen. This was better. 

And sometimes it paid to have Romanian mobsters as acquaintances. Darko knew the people who ran this particular clinic and had promised Adam a quick in and out the back door sort of visit. 

And he kept his promise, guiding Adam along the side of the building and knocking on a thick, black door that opened into a tight back alley. Adam tried not to get claustrophobic in the enclosed space, tried not to think too closely about the last several experiences he’d had in back alleys. 

A short woman with long blonde hair pulled back into a bun and kind eyes opened the door for them. “Towers?” She asked and, at Darko’s nod, she guided Adam into the building and straight into one of the examination rooms. 

As promised, he only had to interact with the nurse who’d brought him inside - Bridgette - and she explained every test to him before doing it. Some results came back instantly while others she told him would need to be sent out and could take up to two days to receive. 

He had acquired Trichomoniasis, easily curable with a round of antibiotics that she was able to give him before he left, pressing the bottle into his hand and giving him another kind smile. “Take care of yourself, Mr. Towers.” She said in heavily accented English, turning on her heel and leaving him reeling in the doorway to the back entrance, feeling like he’d just woken up from an antiseptic and fluorescent light-filled dream.

\---

When the results took over a week to arrive, he panicked. Surely that must mean bad news?

When they did arrive, he couldn’t open the results, throwing the envelope at Dimitri with a huff and sequestering himself in his bedroom, wrapped in a sea of blankets. 

Minutes later it wasn’t Dimitri, but Nigel, who slipped beneath the sheets with Adam, not close enough to touch him, but close enough to share his body heat and nicotine flavored breath. 

Adam shifted, closing the gap between them, tucking his thigh between Nigel’s. Nigel shimmied closer, his cock brushing up against Adam’s bare skin.

“I would have killed him for you.” Nigel whispered, by way of an apology.

Adam closed his eyes hard against the sentiment. “I didn’t ask you to.” He paused, letting that sink in. “That was the problem.”

“I know.” And then, “I’m sorry.”

Adam nodded. “Fucking come here and kiss me.” A broad smile spread over his face. 

Nigel rumbled his pleasure and pushed himself forward, flipping Adam onto his back and caging him between his arms. His lips pressed against Adam’s, tongue immediately probing, licking along the edges of Adam’s teeth. Adam opened his mouth to deepen the kiss; he felt unseated, dizzy with sensation. He closed his eyes and breathed heavily through his nose to settle himself. 

“Let me show you how much I fucking missed you, gorgeous?” Nigel spoke between gasping breaths and kisses. He chewed and sucked on the tender flesh of Adam’s neck, finding his collarbone and trailing wet sloppy kisses along its length. 

Adam tilted his head up, pushing his chest up into Nigel’s mouth, sighing when he sucked on his pebbled nipple. It felt luxurious being under Nigel’s attention, having his body lavished. At the same time though, his skin prickled with tension - the weight of Nigel over him made him breathe heavier with anxiety. 

Nigel continued his trail down his chest, his hand slipping down to grasp covetously at his cock through his boxers. Adam took in a short, shallow breath, shaking his head.

“No, Nigel, hmmm” Adam murmured, unsure himself what he was saying. A bubble of panic swelled in his chest.

“Gorgeous, let me make you feel good.” Nigel pulled at the edge of Adam’s boxers, slipping his hand inside to feel how soft he was. 

Adam squirmed under Nigel, getting his hands up to push him forcefully off. “No - stop.” he said again, more clearly this time than before. Nigel immediately pulled his hand away and lifted himself off to look at Adam, confused.

“Get off me - get - “ his voice was frantic. He pushed himself up and shimmied out of Nigel’s caging body, where the air felt fresher, cooler. He pressed his eyelids together, his hands coming up to cover his ears. Suddenly everything felt too loud, his breathing, the _thump thump thump_ of his heart, the distant noise of the traffic outside. 

“Woah woah” Nigel threw his hands up in front of him, backing away and off the bed slowly. “DIMITRI!” He yelled, not daring to take his eyes off the boy.

DImitri crashed into the bedroom too quickly, as though he were waiting just outside to be needed. Immediately, he began to take control of the situation.

“Adam, watch me now, take breaths with me, in-” he sucked in a deep, heavy inhale and held in for a beat. “Out,” he said, blowing all his air out before starting again. 

Nigel caught onto what was happening and joined Dimitri in making exaggerated breathing motions. He creeped slowly back towards Adam, not fast enough to make his panic grow. “Gorgeous, breathe with us, you have it.”

But Adam absolutely did not have it, he had nothing but an impending sense that his heart might burst if he didn’t get out of the room _this second_. He backed himself off the bed and, holding himself against the walls of the room, quickly tried to swipe himself past Nigel, towards Dimitri and the door.

“Hey, hey, gorgeous!” Nigel said soothingly, but then he reached out. Tried to grab onto his arm to pull him in close to comfort. 

Adam swung his fist wildly, landing his punch firmly against Nigel’s ear.

“Fucking fuck!” Nigel swore, letting go of Adam to hold his battered head.

Adam ignored him, sweeping out of the room and into the freedom of the front room. Immediately, he began to feel calmer in the open space. Dimitri followed behind him at a respectable distance, keeping up his exaggerated breaths.

“It’s going to be okay, myshka, just keep breathing.” His voice was calm, his breathing slow and steady like ocean waves. Adam collapsed onto the floor, his knees coming up to his chest and he tried to slowly come back down from the panic that had overtaken him in the bedroom.

Several minutes later, he managed to look up at Dimitri, a weak smile on his face. 

“Okay?” he asked, inching forward but well outside of Adam’s swinging range. 

Adam nodded once, a nearly invisible tick of his head. “Okay.” He whispered, not sure if he believed himself. 

Nigel stepped out of the room, leaning his body on the edge of the doorframe. “Mean right hook.” He managed, rubbing at his sore ear. Adam looked at him, embarrassed, trying to think of what to say. Until Nigel let his smile loose. No apologies were necessary.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Enjoy the penultimate chapter!

Nigel slammed down a baggie of powder on the countertop hard enough that Adam had a vision of it exploding, the kitchen covered in a thin white veil. 

He raised a brow at the man, mirroring his smile when he saw Nigel’s own lips pulled up in a smirk. “What’s this, then?” 

“Fuckin’ molly, gorgeous. Best drug in the world. We did your weed shit last time, this time it’s my turn.” 

His heart beat rabbit fast in his chest, his pulse thundering hard enough to feel like a caress. He hadn’t done drugs since… _since_. He had the immediate urge to _flee_ but he fought against it, knew Nigel’s heart was in the right place. 

Nigel and Dimitri weren’t soft men except where Adam brushed up and smoothed out their sharpest edges. They weren’t men accustomed to holding their tongues, holding their rage. Nigel especially wasn’t a man who often heard the word _no._

Which is why Adam was appreciative of the concessions they’d made to try and fit his needs. Ever since they’d brought him home they’d given him everything he’d asked for and plenty of things he hadn’t. They’d given him space, they’d given him time. 

Perhaps, this time, he could give them something in return. 

“Why?” Adam asked, stalling for time to consider the possibility before him. He caught a glance from Dimitri who’d sat up in his chair in the corner of the room, looking annoyed and frustrated at Nigel.

“Yeah, why the fuck did you bring him drugs?” Dimitri was on his feet now, about to grab the baggy but Nigel whipped in to snatch it at the last second.

He smiled playfully at the older man. “Ah ah! There’s enough for everyone, grandpa. You can play along too.” He turned on his heel and sat a respectful distance away from Adam. His hand came out to touch the outside of his thigh. “I just thought… I know it’s been hard lately. This might make it a little easier?”

Dimitri let out a string of Russian, none of which Adam was able to decipher. Nigel spat back in Romanian, both able to understand the other but neither willing to concede to speak the other’s language. He rolled his eyes at DImitri and turned back to Adam. 

“A social lubricant, so to speak?” Adam asked, a tenuous smile pulling his lips up in increments. 

“If you want, gorgeous. Only if you want.” He held the bag up for Adam, who reached out and took it slowly. 

Adam regarded the white powder, shifting it in the baggie and watching it run like extra fine sand. The back of his skull buzzed in anticipation, some baser part of him that looked to dive in and get lost in anything that wasn’t his brain. 

He looked up at Dimitri. “You’ll do it too?” Dimitri paused long enough that Adam was on his feet and in the other man’s space in seconds. “Please?” he asked, holding up the baggie just like Nigel had done with him.

Dimitri looked from Adam to the baggie and back again, then let out a world weary sigh. “Fuck it, if you think it might help.”

\---

Adam sat in a ball on the shag carpeting, leaning on the edge of the sofa. He liked it better down here, where Nigel could stretch out above him, his hand gently snaking around his neck lightly. 

He leaned his head back, exposing the tight muscles of his neck to Nigel’s wandering fingers. It felt good, having him close by. _Comfortable_. He let himself smile up, unfocused towards Nigel. Nigel smiled back. 

“Feeling good?” Nigel asked, his fingers trailing the naked skin of his neck and chest. Adam hummed his agreement and his appreciation at the gesture, closing his eyes to focus on the way Nigel’s nails would skim the topmost layer of his skin, just barely touching. 

“Aren’t you?” Adam asked, suddenly nervous. Was he the only one feeling anything? His head shot up and he looked from Nigel to Dimitri. Both men were lounging quietly in their respective spots. Dimitri appeared to be half dozing. 

“Shhh gorgeous, yeah. You’re alright.” Nigel tugged gently on a stray curl to bring him melting back to rest on the couch. 

“Wanna touch both of you,” Adam drawled, his eyes darting between them. Dimitri didn’t hesitate, his eyes snapping open as if he hadn’t just looked two seconds away from sleep. 

He disappeared for what could have been seconds, minutes, or even hours, and when he returned he deposited a massive pile of blankets and pillows he’d ripped from the bed, creating a nest in front of Adam’s stretched out feet.

He immediately crawled into the welcoming comfort, snuggling down and reaching out both hands to Dimitri and Nigel, entreating them closer. 

The two men made eye contact over Adam’s head before they both fell into the little makeshift nest with him, boxing him in and crowding him but not making him uncomfortable. Not yet.

He wanted to fuck, could feel the desire like electricity underneath his skin, but when he thought too much about it, pressed too closely on the still-healing bruise of his memories, alarm bells started to sound in the back of his mind; distantly faint but still there. 

In those darker recesses of his brain, the places even the molly couldn’t touch, he knew he wasn’t ready for penetration yet, he’d tried that and it hadn’t gone well; even a few half-hearted solo fingering attempts in the shower hadn’t been possible without an uptick in his heart rate. 

But Nigel, Dimitri, they could get off, Adam might even be able to watch. He wanted to touch them, so he did, reaching a hand out first to pet through Nigel’s chest hair, his shirt having disappeared at some point while Adam was lost to hazy thoughts and the procession of time. 

He leaned forward to place a wet, sloppy kiss to the side of Nigel’s nipple, licking a little trail from his nipple to his upper ribs. He received a gruff growl of approval from the Romanian and then turned his attention to Dimitri, giving him the same treatment with his tongue, pushing his shirt up around his neck to get to his chest, nipples surrounded by soft, graying hair. 

“Fuck, _myshka_ ,” Dimitri groaned into the silence, and Adam froze. The fight or flight centers of his brain lighting up like a blazing fire. He pulled back when Dimitri’s fingers found his hair, trying to hold him close.

“I can’t,” he apologized, lips turned down in disappointment. He didn’t _want_ this, didn’t want to have intrusive thoughts that kept him from showing affection to the two men he loved most in the world. He didn’t want to be broken anymore. He refused. 

It was as his heart rate started to return to normal that the idea came to him. Something straight out of a wet dream, one Adam would admit he’d had frequently in the months he’d known both men together. 

The two of them, wrapped up in each other while he watched them take their pleasure from the other’s body, saw them crash against each other and come together like two unstoppable forces, like waves against the shore. He wanted that, not only to give them some reprieve from what he knew had been sexless months for them, but also to give himself something to enjoy after what felt like years without physical affection.

He could give this to them. He knew neither man was overly experienced with being with another man, Adam seeming to be the exception to their macho bullshit, but he had experience in spades. _He could do this._

Dimitri grabbed hold of Adam’s wandering hand, bringing it close to his chest. His face looked the epitome of sincerity. “I didn’t mean it that way. You know I don’t care.”

Adam pulled his lip in an exaggerated pout and let his hands flip down at his sides. Disappointment budded and bloomed through him until he was nothing but the emotion. “I know but I _wish_ you did. I wish i _could_.”

Nigel slipped into Adam’s consciousness, his tattoo thrumming with activity. Adam’s disappointment was instantly replaced with a curiosity and he lunged towards the other man, his tongue darting out to taste the inky flesh. It tasted of cologne and nicotine and Nigel; Adam hummed his delight and appreciation. 

Nigel growled low, tilting his head to lean back onto the edge of the couch. “Mmm, you don’t need to do anything, gorgeous. Nothing more than that at least,” he murmured, his eyes slipping closed against the sensation that skittered over his skin, the molly threading through and enhancing their pleasure.

Dimitri ran his hands over the smooth fabric of Adam’s pajama pants. The fabric pulled and gently bounced back into place, and Dimitri, fascinated with the sensation, rubbed Adam’s leg again and again, watching the way the jersey slipped between his fingers and ran under his palm.

It distracted Adam, the feeling coursing up his leg, igniting between his legs a sort of heat he’d grown wary of in the past months. His face scrunched up against the haunting memories. Dimitri noticed, pulling him gently but insistently off of Nigel so he might soothe his mind. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re with us,” Dimitri repeated, a mantra that Adam had grown used to in the past weeks whenever panic licked at his heels. “Breathe with me?”

“Breathe with you,” Adam repeated, knowing the drill. He could hear Nigel take a long inhale as well; the sound was an immediate comfort. 

He clasped both men’s hands and they sat in their cocoon of blankets, eyes on each other, just breathing. Adam could taste the wicked thoughts leaving his mind through his mouth with every exhale. If he squinted just right, he could almost see them - wisps of torture and pain, diffused into the quiet space until they were nothing but thin, weak specters of a past life.

“Okay.” he said, when he was once again calm. He gripped both hands. “Now please, I want you touching me.” He scrambled out of his pajama pants and motioned for both men to do the same. 

If he were sharper, he wouldn’t have missed the shy look Dimitri gave to Nigel, nor would he have failed to catch his smirked reply and shoulder shrug. But as it was, Adam was too flustered in nestling himself into the layers of blankets, holding the ends up so that his men might slip inside on either side of him. 

“Is this alright, darling?” Nigel mused, his lips tracing the shell of Adam’s ear as he spoke. 

Adam hummed his reply, pulling Dimitri closer to him so the men could snake their limbs together and tangle incomprehensibly with the blankets. It felt safe. 

He touched Dimitri’s lips with the pads of his fingers, marveling at the softness of the skin there. It was now or never. “Will you help me?” he asked, his eyes wide, pupils blown.

“Anything.” Dimitri immediately replied, taking Adam’s finger to nip gently at the end. 

“Let me…” he paused, suddenly nervous. “Let me watch you.” He turned his head as best he could to face Nigel as well. “And you. Let me watch you together.”

Dimitri balked. His teeth stilled against Adam’s finger. Nigel, for his part, let out a warm, low chuckle, then sucked harder on the curve of Adam’s throat, just above the collarbone. Neither man made a move to answer, though neither slid away from him either. The temptation that their heated skin offered pulled them close together, their arousal obvious amongst them. 

“Please?” Adam inquired again, minutes later, when their attention had returned tenderly to him. He loved the feeling of them beside him, but he knew they both wanted more. He wanted more. He just couldn’t give it to them yet. 

“Please?” Nigel echoed Adam, at last removing his lips from Adam’s neck. He propped himself on one arm. “You begging for it, are you?”

Dimitri shook his head, about to protest but Nigel cut him off. “No use pretending you haven’t been thinking of it, old man.” His laughter sparkled in the afternoon air. Adam felt it like a contagion and followed along. 

He stopped abruptly and looked directly at Dimitri. HIs hand skidded over his naked side, and he wrapped his hand around his girth. “You said _anything_.”

The sensation of having someone touch his aching cock made Dimitri hiss quietly. His lids fell and he leaned his head back, wrapped up in the feeling of Adam’s small hand slowly jerking his cock. 

“You said anything.” Nigel repeated, a smile playing on his lips. “Turn about’s fair play.” His brows arched in time with Adam’s.

Dimitiri let out his breath in a huff and peeled himself from Adam’s limbs and hands. Adam shot up beside Nigel, his face falling as he watched Dimitri get up and leave their nest. 

“Dimitri - I’m - I didn’t mean-” he stopped when Dimitri waved his hand emphatically at him.

“Just let me get another bump, okay? I said anything, but I didn’t say I’d do it sober.”

Nigel snickered, tugging at Adam to lay back down into the blankets. Adam went easily, his body flowing like a stream with newfound energy. Anticipation. Satiation.

“Turn about?” Adam asked as he shifted and resettled back into their makeshift bed. 

Nigel only shook his head. “No need to dwell on the past when you’ve got a front row seat for the present, eh gorgeous?”

Adam pushed forward and let his lips press tightly against Nigel’s. “Thank you.”

He got a rumbling growl of approval from Nigel even as Dimitri returned with a gruff scoff at Nigel’s words, settling back down into the pile of blankets and looking at Adam like he was the entire world. 

Something dark and angry shifted and dissipated, just a little, inside Adam’s chest at the sight of these two men loving him so deeply and so openly, and he felt like he could breathe again after months of struggling for air. 

He giggled, because he felt light and buoyant and his joy was only elevated further by the drugs coursing through his veins. _Pump. Pump. Pump_. He could feel his pulse in his wrists, at his neck, and he smiled and pulled Dimitri closer. 

“Want you to fuck him,” Adam decided in that moment, desperately wanting it more than felt reasonable. 

Nigel clearly had thoughts about that request but he kept them to himself outside of a slight huff of annoyance, settling quickly enough when Adam returned to him with hot, seeking kisses that spilled across his lips and down his neck. 

Adam got lost in the sensations for almost long enough to forget his worries, to put away all of his concerns. But then his cock brushed against Nigel’s knee and he stopped, leaning back and running into Dimitri’s firm chest where it pressed against his back, the two men so close. 

It was too many hands, too many bodies for Adam’s still frazzled nerves so he scooted back until he rested with his back to the couch, and opened up a space for Nigel to move closer. 

“What next, gorgeous?” Nigel’s voice brought him back to himself and also brought with it what shouldn’t have been a stunning revelation, but it floored him nonetheless. These two men would really allow him to control their pleasure. To move them and shape their experience to suit his own desires. 

That, more than anything, soothed Adam and he felt almost like his old self again for a moment, a sly smirk pulling his lips up. “Lay on your back,” he instructed Dimitri, seeing it perfectly in his mind's eye. 

Dimitri’s movements still held more hesitance than Nigel’s, but there was no reluctance there, simply a sense of embarrassment that Adam knew all too well wouldn’t keep the Russian from accomplishing a task he’d set his mind to. 

Once Dimitri was sprawled out on the blankets, Adam leaned over to give him an almost chaste peck on the mouth before turning it filthy, full of lips and teeth and tongue. When he had the older man panting for it, he pulled back with a smirk. “Thanks, Daddy,” he winked, playful and full of mirth. 

“Now you,” He pulled on Nigel, moving him so he was straddling over Dimitri’s face, his cockhead nearly bumping Dimitri’s lips, and Nigel’s own mouth hovering close to the Russian’s groin. 

“Sixty-nine, darling? Really?” Nigel laughed, looking back over his shoulder at the man spread out beneath him, giving him a playful wink that Dimitri didn’t return, but it at least brought a chuckle from his throat. 

Everything was okay and Adam felt amazing. His skin prickled with electricity and his brain felt full of cotton-candy. His mouth watered already just seeing these two gruff men with each other in such an intimate way, heavily-haired bodies pressed tight and close. 

“Daddy, I want you to get Nigel ready with your fingers like you do so good for me,” he grinned, showing a flash of teeth.He leaned forward to capture Nigel’s mouth in a near-bruising kiss, slipping his tongue inside for a teasing second before pulling away. “And I want you to suck him off, put that mouth to good use and get him nice and hard for you.” 

“What are you gonna do, gorgeous?” Nigel taunted, wrapping his hand around Dimitri’s cock and spitting on it lewdly. 

“Gonna touch myself,” Adam answered honestly, eyes glittering with pleasure already. 

“Been thinking about this long?” Nigel kept his eyes trained on Adam as he lay his tongue flat on Dimitri’s length and licked from base to tip. 

Adam’s own cock twitched in sympathy. He reached down to fondle his much less considerable girth. He could imagine the noises Nigel would make, newly stretched out over such a massive cock. He pumped his hand more vigorously at the thought. 

Dimitri’s rough hands ran up the back of Nigel’s thighs, making the man moan over his cockhead. The feedback loop sparked a chain reaction: Dimitri rubbing his hands increasingly closer to Nigel’s ass and balls, Nigel sucking harder around his tip and trying to engulf more of the man’s cock into his already stretched mouth. Over and over again. Until Adam had to forcefully stop himself from jacking himself so enthusiastically lest it all be over before the show truly began. 

“Spit on his hole, Daddy. Make him as wet as you make me.” Adam peered over Nigel’s thigh, catching sight of his winking hole as Dimitri brushed past it with just his middle finger. 

“Could use your help.” Dimitri looked up at Adam expectantly, then let out a soft sigh as Nigel flicked at the underside of his cock. 

There was only a moment of hesitance pulling at Adam’s gut before he shook it off. He was in charge here, had these two powerful men begging to fulfill his whims. He was _safe._

On his hands and knees, Adam crawled over for a better view, then spit a wad directly onto Nigel’s hole. Dimitri nodded encouragingly, and Adam did it again, fascinated at how the frothy fluid caught in a stray hair or rolled over his dry asshole. Dimitri brought his finger up to rub lightly over his opening, dipping the tip of his finger into the puckered flesh. 

Adam let out a groan of appreciation, his fingers coming over to touch lightly at the spread globes of Nigel’s ass. Nigel popped off Dimitri’s cock to let out a frustrated huff. “Don’t need any more admirers, love, need you to make me feel good.”

The demand rushed to Adam’s head and he giggled softly to himself. Teasingly, he circled Nigel’s hole with his finger like water circling a drain, only barely dipping in whenever he made a complete lap. Soon, Nigel was writing over Dimitri’s face, simultaneously pushing his ass into Adam’s gentle touches while increasingly bucking his cock to rub over Dimitri’s lips. Dimitri laughed at his insistence, finally relinquishing control and opening his mouth to take Nigel in. Nigel groaned hard and loud and sunk into Dimitri’s waiting throat. 

At the same time, Adam pushed his finger in forcefully, the spit only doing so much to make it a smooth glide. He relished in the tight heat that surrounded his finger, curled it slightly and twisted to pull nearly all the way out. When Nigel was about to whine, he pushed himself back inside. 

“Want you both doing that, feels fucking good,” he panted, sticking his ass higher in the air. 

Adam scrambled up and away, leaving only long enough to grab the lube he’d bought and stored hopefully in the bedroom. Finally, he would get to use it. He uncapped the bottle and squirted a long stream over Nigel’s hole. Dimitri spread it around, pushing a slick, thick finger in and out until Nigel’s hole fluttered and relaxed with the intrusion.

Dimitri kissed the end of Nigel’s cock, pulling himself away in order to speak. “Think you can get loose enough to take me?” He teased, but Adam could tell there was a hint of sincerity in his question. Not everyone was as willing a size slut as Adam had proved to be.

“Just keep doing that and I’ll take fucking both of you soon,” Nigel groaned around Dimitri’s cock. He lathed his length in sloppy, open mouthed kisses and shook his ass for the other two men. 

Adam chuckled, feeling hazy and light. Carefully, he slid his finger in beside Dimitri’s, and together they began to work Nigel open, slipping two then three then more of their digits in together. Soon, Adam could easily slide four of his fingers into Nigel’s wet hole, twisting and curving them in a way that made Nigel unabashedly moan.

It was sloppy and wet, messy in an altogether pleasant way that had Adam reeling. He slipped all of his fingers out at once, watching in rapt fascination as Nigel’s hole blinked and fluttered around the emptiness, the man making a slightly despondent sound at the loss. 

“Darling?” He questioned, looking over his shoulder just in time for Adam to launch himself at his face, taking it between his hands, filthy fingers and all, and kissing him with a desperate fervor. He hadn’t been this turned on in so long he’d nearly forgotten how it felt like molten lava in his stomach, like an inferno in his chest, to be around these men. 

Dimitri was licking a trail along Nigel’s straining cock even as he slipped two fingers easily back inside the man, angling them to hit his prostate on every thrust. “You gonna fuck me or not, fucker?” Nigel taunted, shaking his ass again and throwing a smirk at Adam when he pulled away on a gasping breath. 

“You’ll thank him later for getting you wet and messy, Nigel. Daddy has a big cock,” Adam teased, nipping at Nigel’s kiss-swollen bottom lip before crawling over to Dimitri, the soft fabrics of their nest causing his entire body to light up wherever he touched them. 

He gave Dimitri an upside down kiss and slapped Nigel’s ass just to watch his rim clench around Dimitri’s probing fingers. Nigel pulled himself off and swiveled around, crashing his lips together with the other man’s in a bruising kiss, both men trying to claim dominance. 

Adam giggled from where he kneeled beside them, his eyes honing in on the string of saliva that connected their mouths when Nigel finally pulled away from Dimitri, both of them panting and Adam left reeling from the multitude of sensations he was being overloaded with. It felt wonderful, like magic. 

“Why aren’t we always doing molly?” Adam thought to himself, but the other two men laughed at him and he realized he had spoken aloud. 

“We can do whatever you want, whenever you want, gorgeous,” Nigel purred, pressing sugar-sweet, light kisses to Adam’s lips and licking over his teeth. 

“Want you to ride him,” Adam paused, considering the options. “Just like this, I think I wanna be able to kiss you both easily,” he grinned, doing exactly that as Nigel slid back a little, sliding his ass cheeks over Dimitri’s hard cock, teasing them both.

Adam kissed Nigel bruisingly while Dimitri held the Romanian’s hip with one hand and ground him down, using his other hand to hold his own cock to help guide it between Nigel’s spread open thighs. 

Nigel hissed into their kiss as Dimitri’s cock finally caught on his red, stretched rim, the lube squelching loudly in the quiet space between them. It was lewd and wonderful and Adam immediately wanted more. 

“Mmm how does that feel?” Adam asked, running his hands along the back of Nigel’s arm.

“Fucking huge,” he grimmaced. His thighs were shaking a little at the effort of holding himself half-impaled on Dimitri’s cock, waiting for the burn to subside before he dared move again. 

Adam crawled over and gave Dimitri a series of short, sloppy kisses. “Wanna see you wreck him. Can you show me, Daddy? Show me how big men fuck.”

Dimitri groaned, his hips making small pulsing motions as he tried not to buck too forcefully into Nigel’s aching ass. Like this, he couldn’t watch the way his partner would spread around him, and it was harder to judge when he might be able to push in or pull out to see his pleasure. 

Nigel let out a hiss as he allowed himself to sink an inch further onto Dimitri. His girth was widest in the portion Nigel was bracing himself to take. He let out a shaking breath and pulled himself nearly all the way off Dimitri’s throbbing cock.

“Ready to take him?” Adam asked, his eyes staring greedily between Nigel’s spread legs at the wet slick of Dimitri’s cock. He glanced up at Nigel, who squirmed in place but nodded resolutely. “Okay, baby. Time to get filled up.”

In one fluid motion, Nigel’s legs gave up and he slid down onto Dimitri’s hard cock. Dimitri hummed in satisfaction while Nigel swore quietly, his face a mix of pleasure and surprise. Adam remembered that feeling the first time he’d taken DImitri - the complex sensation of pain and fullness and the exaltation that came from both. He realized his feelings were showing on his face: a sloppy wide grin stretching his cheeks. 

He reached out and ran his hand over and over again on Nigel’s thigh, nearly shushing him into stillness as he squirmed around on the massive cock. “Fuck, gorgeous. Feels like I’ve been lanced through.” 

Adam nodded, remembering. Once he got used to the intrusion, got over the fear of having a cock lodged deep in his guts, pushing its way into his insides and making room by pressing the rest of him apart, he’d grown to love that feeling. Crave the fullness that only Dimitri had been able to provide him for so long. On the next down stroke, he let his hand fall off Nigel’s leg and grasped ungently around his own cock, pumping it fiercely a few times to relieve some of the pressure caused by the pleasant, tantalizing memories of his past blended with the incredibly hot scene before him in his present.

“You like watching, don’t you?” Dimitri panted gruffly. His own hands had replaced Adam’s, running up and down Nigel’s thighs in a way that sent sparks up through the man’s nervous system. It was overwhelming, all of the sensation, and he was gasping from trying to take it all in. 

“Want you to fuck yourself on him, baby.” Adam let out breathlessly, his hand racing over his leaking cock as he nodded enthusiastically in reply. The slide it made of his fist over his tight skin was glorious, he could feel his orgasm simmering low in his belly already. 

Nigel nodded, seemingly short of words, but pulled himself up and nearly off of Dimitri, hovering with just his bulbous head catching along the rim of his ass. He looked down and locked eyes with Adam, then let himself drop onto the thick cock beneath him. He didn’t settle then, instead starting a slow ride that had both of Adam’s men gasping within seconds. 

Adam clambered up and pressed his mouth into Nigel’s revelling in the way the man bounced on Dimitri’s cock, making their kiss sloppy and full of seeking tongues and hard breaths. Blindly, he reached out for Dimitri, their hands finding each other and their fingers interlacing. Like that, Nigel fucked himself with increasing vigor onto the shaking man below them. 

“Touch me?” Adam whispered into Nigel’s mouth when he was sure he was near to bursting. The request made Nigel pause mid bounce, but he nodded eagerly and took up Adam’s mouth once more. His hand wrapped around Adam gently, nearly delicately and he pumped his hand over his length slowly, setting a new pace on Dimitri to match. 

“God, _myshka_. Come on me.” Dimitri moaned, his legs quivering with his own approaching orgasm and the need to fight himself from flipping Nigel over and taking him hard and fast. The slower pace the other man had just struck up had Dimitri’s insides burning, nearly ready to explode. It was too good, the heat, the tightness. Watching his boy touched with clear reverence from the man that rode him. 

Adam nodded frantically, his head thrown back in pleasure as he let Nigel take over, sliding fingers through the slickness leaking from his head, down to grip more firmly over his length. It was the first time he had let someone touch him this way in months, and the renewed novelty of Nigel’s smooth strokes had him quaking in seconds. 

Nigel bit gently onto Adam’s pinkened lips and growled. “Come for me baby, let me see you feeling good.”

His orgasm crawled up his inner thighs and unwound from the depth of his belly. He felt his knees buckle as it crashed over him and he came in long thick ropes over Nigel’s hand and onto the furry trail down Dimitri’s belly. 

When it wasn’t immediately followed with the dread he’d grown so accustomed to, he nearly sobbed in relief and leaned forward to kiss both men, one after the other, bruised lips crashing together in a messy three-way kiss as he pulled Nigel down to join his kiss with Dimitri, lips and tongues colliding, spit slick and perfect. 

“Wanna see you both come for me, want you to fill Nigel up, Daddy,” Adam pleaded, pulling away enough to shuffle onto his hands and knees, taking Nigel’s cock into his mouth with a degree of fervor he’d thought lost to him.

“Anything, gorgeous,” Nigel sighed as Adam took him to the back of his throat, swallowing around him and moaning along his length. 

Dimitri grabbed Nigel’s hips hard enough to bruise, finally letting himself start up a punishing pace, his cock disappearing rapidly into the man sat astride him. Nigel rumbled his pleasure as his prostate was battered and Adam’s throat fluttered around his cock. 

Adam pulled away long enough to beg, “Come in my mouth, Nigel, please,” before returning to the man, spitting on his cock to make the glide even smoother as he took him in again. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Nigel growled, putting a hand in Adam’s hair, not to guide him or force him, but simply to feel him even closer as he was consumed. 

“So good for us, myshka, so beautiful,” Dimitri purred, stilling his hips on a final thrust and coming inside the tight heat surrounding him, filling Nigel so much that some of his come leaked sluggishly around his cock before he’d even pulled out. 

Nigel groaned when Dimitri pulled out and thrust back in, pushing more of his come out of Nigel’s sore rim. Dimitri focused solely on keeping pressure on Nigel’s prostate with his still semi-hard length, but didn’t need to focus long before Nigel was spilling warm and thick into Adam’s mouth, the boy moaning filthily at having his mouth filled. 

Dimitri grabbed Adam gently and pulled him off Nigel’s still pulsing cock, bringing him to kiss his swollen lips, licking into his mouth where he could still taste Nigel bright and hot against Adam’s teeth and tongue. 

Nigel moved lower, shifting enough on Dimitri’s dick that it slipped out of him with a wet sound. Adam leaned over to kiss Nigel too, the three of them sharing air and spit and post-orgasmic calm even as their pulses raced in their throats. 

“Thank you,” Adam said softly to no one in particular, not meeting the other two men’s eyes as he let himself be curled into position on the nest of blankets in between both of them, his head resting on Dimitri’s furred chest and Nigel’s breath warm on the back of his neck where he molded to Adam’s back. 

He didn’t hear if either responded as he drifted into the first restful sleep he’d had in months.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter for this story, but not the last for these boys!

Nigel didn’t celebrate fucking holidays. He didn’t see a need to designate certain times of the year to celebrate, and he certainly didn’t give two shits about being festive. He had a successful business and practically everyday was Christmas when you were netting millions a year. 

But Adam, apparently, _was_ a holiday person. He’d been forlorn last year when he’d missed Halloween and Christmas, but now, a year and some change after they’d found him and brought him home, it seemed he was making up for the lost time. 

“It’s his _birthday_ , you have to do whatever he says,” Adam teased, smacking Nigel on the ass as he got up to collect Darko _another_ goddamn beer. 

“He’s not a guest. He practically lives here, he should get his own damn drinks,” Nigel grumbled half-heartedly, already nearly all the way to the kitchen, caving and grabbing drinks for everyone. He tossed Darko an unopened bottle and grinned to himself as the other man cursed loudly in Romanian. 

“Listen to your fuck toy, brother. It’s my fucking birthday!” Darko bellowed from his corner of the room where he stood, tapping his foot aggressively in time with the music. 

Nigel rolled his eyes while he poured a quick whiskey and ginger for his boy, grabbed an entire bottle of vodka for himself and made his way back to the couch. 

He pushed the mirrored tray containing their already partially consumed party favors to the side with the bottom of the bottle, making room for it on the table. He was soaring; he knew that Adam was too as the boy had gone toe to toe with every line Nigel snorted. Darko was more fidgety and more vocal when he was high, and Nigel could tell from the way his head bobbed along to the song that the man was feeling just as good as they were.

Nigel brought his hand to rest in silken curls, grown long over the last year, and spilling down flushed pink cheeks. He turned Adam’s head until the boy was facing him, and then he claimed his plush, already kiss-swollen lips with his own, nipping playfully at the fuller bottom lip. 

Adam gave a little whimpering moan that was nearly lost in their mouths, slipping into Nigel’s lap and framing his thighs with his legs. Nigel could feel his taut muscles beneath the thin fabric of his pants. 

Nigel moved his hands down to clutch at Adam’s ass, pulling the boy closer to him until he could feel his cock straining through the fabric. 

“Naughty fucking slut,” Nigel growled into Adam’s lips, biting down hard enough to draw a gasp from him. 

Adam let out a quiet, satisfied noise and nuzzled his nose against the inked lady laid upon Nigel’s neck. 

“Can you blame me?” he asked, snaking his hand down and rubbing against the growing hardness between Nigel’s legs. 

“If you fuckers are gonna do that shit, the least you could do is share,” Darko grumbled from where he’d thrown himself into a perch on the far corner of the couch. Nigel chuckled. 

He leaned close enough that his lips brushed Adam’s ear, and whispered filthily: “You wanna take care of my brother, baby? Like you said, it’s his fuckin’ birthday.” 

Adam _did_ moan then, shifting and squirming on Nigel’s lap. A jolt of arousal shot through Nigel at the thought of sharing his boy, watching him give and take his pleasure. 

“Yeah, _Daddy_ ,” Adam grinned, his eyes glinting mischievously at the word. He still used it more often with Dimitri, but he’d grown far too comfortable using it to tease the hell out of Nigel. Nigel couldn’t say he minded. 

“What’re you two plotting over there?” Darko spit out.

Nigel pulled Adam up to look him straight in the eyes. The smirk playing at the corners of his mouth suddenly dropped and he looked at his boy with conviction. He whispered, “You wanna do this for me, boy?”

Adam smiled, dropping his head on his shoulders to let it swing in a sloppy nod. “Yeah, Daddy. I’m your fucking slut. You just want me to show our family a good time, don’t you?”

Nigel let out a chuckle, swiping his tongue over his numb teeth, chewing at the corner of his mouth. “I’m fucking serious. Now I wanna see you sucking his cock and moaning for it, but you’re in control. Say the word and it’s over. _Pricepe?_ ” he asked quietly, somberly. 

Adam read the change in Nigel’s tone and stopped his grinding. Nigel ran his sweaty palm through the tangle of curls that were stuck against his face; Adam pushed his cheek into the soft embrace. “ _Pricepe_ , Daddy. I understand.” 

Adam leaned over to plant his lips gently over Nigel’s own in as delicate a kiss as he could manage with his lips tingling from the blow. “I want you to watch me. Want to taste your brother and get you so hot you take me in front of him.”

Nigel let out a low growl from deep in his throat. “Be careful what you wish for, baby.” He smacked Adam’s ass hard, causing Darko’s brows to raise as the sound echoed in the room. 

The boy chuckled and stood up. He turned to Darko and began to peel himself out of his tight cotton t-shirt. Darko, intrigued, stood up from his perch and took a step forward, looking sideways at Nigel.

“Is this what I think it is?”

Nigel laughed. “Happy fucking birthday, brother dearest. I’m about to give you the best fucking present of your goddamn life.”

Adam dropped his pants and burst out laughing, unable to hide his mirth as his cock bounced when it caught the hem of his pants.

Nigel’s hand immediately came up to grope at the globes of his bare ass, kneading into the soft flesh with firm fingers. “Ready, gorgeous?”

Adam grinned, keeping his eyes on Darko. He nodded. 

Nigel straightened up. “On your fucking knees. A filthy whore like you doesn’t get to stand. Crawl over to the birthday boy. Show him why I keep you around.”

Adam closed his eyes hard against the insults that untangled a bright sensation deep in his belly. He shivered and sank to his knees, then began to crawl over to where Darko was still standing.

Darko blinked, unused to the shift in roles between the two of them. He watched Adam slink over on his hands and knees, his bare ass waving behind him as he covered the short distance from Nigel to the end of the couch where Darko waited. 

Nigel chuckled darkly at the look of surprise on Darko’s face when Adam stopped in front of him, slotting himself between the other man’s knees and placing his hands on his thighs almost sweetly, awaiting his next orders. 

Darko looked over Adam’s head at Nigel, and Nigel gave him a short nod. “You can have his mouth, brother. No need to be gentle with the little cocksucker.” They shared a smile where Adam couldn’t see, memories of the last year surfacing even as Darko wrapped a firm hand in Adam’s riotous, sweaty curls and forced his head cruelly to the side to make room for himself to slide more comfortably onto the couch cushions. 

He spread his thighs wide and pulled Adam forward, the boy stumbling on his knees and catching himself with one hand on the couch and the other on Darko’s knee. “What are you fucking waiting for, whore? Get my cock out,” Darko played along with the game, and a molten hot jolt of arousal began to pool in Nigel’s stomach. 

They’d only ever played with Dimitri this way when the mood struck, Adam not having done anything else with Darko since that night in the club what felt like decades ago. It had taken time, but submission was now where Adam felt most at home. 

“Yes, Sir,” Adam murmured, and Nigel’s toes curled with desire. His boy was _so good_ when he was like this. The perfectly submissive slut, wanton and desperate to please. 

“That’s right, gorgeous,” Nigel encouraged, settling back into the corner of the couch, angling his body so he had a good view. 

Adam smirked and leaned forward, unbuttoning Darko’s pants and then pulling the zipper down with his teeth like a fucking stripper. All the while, his cock bobbed obscenely between his legs, his entire body covered in a thin sheen of sweat from the combination of arousal and the coke burning its way bright and hot through his system. 

When he opened Darko’s pants, the man lifted his hips to help Adam pull them down his thighs, settling them around his ankles and exposing his hairy legs and his bare cock. “Really?” Nigel laughed, realizing that apparently his brother was also commando. 

“Was running late,” Darko groaned as Adam gave a soft kitten lick to his already leaking head, smacking his lips lewdly, a thin layer of pre-come shining on his fuller bottom lip. 

“You live across the hall, fucker,” Nigel shook his head, palming at his straining cock. “Stop fucking teasing, Adam. Do your job,” Nigel taunted the boy, letting out a rough groan when Adam immediately obeyed, taking Darko’s cock all the way to the back of his throat. Nigel could see from his position that Adam had his eyes open, looking up at the other man with tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. He was beautiful like this. 

“Good boy,” Darko moaned, tossing his head back against the couch and letting his hand fall away from Adam’s head, allowing the boy to move as he pleased for the moment. 

Adam moved up and down Darko’s shaft at a brutal pace, moving the hand he wasn’t balancing on to cup at Darko’s balls, shifting them in his palm and getting a hiss of approval from him. Nigel let it continue for several long minutes, content to just watch. 

From the noises he was making, Nigel could tell Darko was getting close. He didn’t want things to be over quite so fast. He moved across the room fast enough that Adam was surprised to feel him at his back, his hand in Adam’s hair to hold him down on Darko’s cock, Adam’s nose pressed flush to the other man’s pubic bone. 

“He likes to choke on it,” Nigel teased, keeping a count in his head of how many seconds went by before he yanked Adam’s mouth up and off, allowing the boy enough time to take several wet, gasping breaths, before Nigel was forcing him back down on Darko. 

Just as he let Adam up for the third time, the front door opened and everyone’s eyes went to the man standing in the doorway. Dimitri was late to the party, having just arrived back in Bucharest from handling some business in Paris on Nigel’s behalf. 

Nigel winked at him and, before the man could interrupt, exclaimed, “You’ll get your turn, old man. For now, sit down and enjoy the show.” 

Adam’s eyes strained to take in Dimitri at the door, his lips curling up around the cock lodged deep in his throat. The expression pulled at the back of his palate and his back hitched with a gag that caught around Darko’s cock. 

“A pitiful whore, if you can’t take Darko’s cock.” Nigel lambasted, pushing Adam down further and grasping around his throat with his other hand. The pressure forced another gag from Adam. Nigel smiled, slapping at the tight muscles contracting around Darko’s cockhead, encouraging Adam to sputter around what impaled him.

Dimitri walked slowly over to where he could sit near enough to see clearly. Reading the room, he let his hand fall hard against Adam’s bare ass. 

“Show me what a quality cockslut you can be, and I’ll let you have dessert.” Dimitri taunted with a smirk.

Adam moaned around Darko, then gasped as Nigel let go of his throat and head, allowing him to pull back. Long strings of saliva connected him to Darko’s wet cock. 

“Fuck, could feel his throat spasm around me,” Darko said to no one in particular, his head back and his eyes focused somewhere just past the ceiling. His legs were trembling. 

“You wanna taste Darko, whore?”

Adam nodded fiercely, looking only at the pink head of Darko’s cock as it pulsed in the cool air. 

“You think you deserve it?”

“No, sir,” Adam quickly supplied. His wandering hands, which had found their way to the insides of Darko’s thighs snapped back to rest on top of his lap.

Nigel looked down at Adam’s red weeping cock. He could tell it ached. “You’re pathetically eager to please, aren’t you my fucktoy?”

“Yes, sir. Yes, _Daddy_. Please let me get your brother off. Please,” he babbled, and licked his lips. 

“And then?” Nigel prodded. He leaned over and grabbed a handful of ass, his calloused finger slipping between Adam’s cheeks to press against his tight, dry pucker. 

Adam shook his head, panting. “Anything, Daddy. I’ll let you do anything you want to me.”

Nigel snapped forward, ripping Adam back by the hair until his back arched and his neck strained. A bead of precum leaked heavily from the tip of his cock.

“You don’t fucking _let_ me do anything. You’re _mine_.” Nigel hissed. Darko laughed. Dimitri adjusted himself through his tear-aways. 

He couldn’t make much movement, but Adam tried to nod anyway. 

Nigel smiled, pleased. “Tell me what you want _me_ to let _you_ do for these gentlemen, boy.”

He was let go, flopping down in front of where Darko was languidly stroking himself to the show. “Please,” he whined, trying not to wiggle or show how turned on this was making him. 

“Tell me.” 

“Wanna have you fuck me while I suck him off.” Adam’s eyes flicked to Dimitri’s end of the couch. “Wanna have both of you fuck me. Together.”

A tingle raced through Nigel’s body at the suggestion. He touched himself more fervently through the cloth of his pants.

“Mmm, my greedy little slut.” He looked up at Dimitri, who was similarly affected by the proposition. “You really think you can take all of your Daddies?”

Adam nodded eagerly, letting out a wanton moan. Darko perked up to take in the ruined sight of Adam on his knees, panting for the men to take him. His hand moved faster over his own cock, imagining the impossible stretch of Adam being filled by the two older men. 

“Alright baby, but first you better put on a good show for us. Dimitri, go get his favorite toy so he can fuck himself open while he finishes giving our birthday boy a lick.”

Dimitri let his nails lightly scrape over the back of Adam’s bare back as he passed, lighting him up with a frantic energy that surged and pulsed over his limbs. 

His Daddy leaned over, his voice low and calm in Adam’s ear. “You need a hit for this, gorgeous?” His hands were everywhere over Adam’s body, caressing and covering him in possessive strokes. 

Adam preened at the attention, tilting his head back so that he could nuzzle the side of Nigel’s face. He nodded, the reminder causing him to sniffle.

“Catch,” Darko called, tossing another baggie full of blow across to Nigel. 

He watched Nigel eagerly as he dumped a sizable pile onto the tray and chopped out a thick, short line. “Go at it, baby boy,” he said, motioning Adam over.

Adam swivelled and, on all fours, crawled over to where the tray and the coke rested in the middle of the room. He accepted the rolled up bill and, pressing closed his other nostril, inhaled the line in a quick, practiced motion. 

The familiar burn felt like ice at the back of his nose and throat before a tingling numbness set in. He smeared his finger over the tray’s residue and rubbed it against his gums, running his tongue repeatedly over the area to feel the dulled sensation. 

“Don’t move a fucking muscle,” Darko demanded suddenly, and he got up from his slump on the couch. He shrugged his pants off, getting down on his own knees so his face was level with Adam’s blinking hole. He gathered spit in his mouth and hawked a wad of saliva directly over Adam’s asshole. 

Adam whimpered, holding himself as still as he could as he came up from the coke. His fingers fidgeted and his heart raced, his whole body felt comfortably warm. Darko leaned over Adam and took a careful scoop of the white powder onto his fingertip. Without warning, he rubbed the powder over Adam’s hole, mixing it with his spit. Nigel laughed appreciatively and moved so he might be able to join in prepping his boy.

“Stay just like that, gorgeous,” Nigel growled into his ear in warning, biting roughly at the lobe as he grabbed the baggie and spilled out a pile, possibly larger than necessary given the amount of blow they’d already done, and spaced out three lines across the lower curve of Adam’s back. Dimitri rarely did blow with them, rarely did anything other than drink like a fish but Nigel was sure he could convince the man to partake for the festivities and to get him ready to fuck their boy. 

“Yes, Sir,” Adam keened, always so sensitive when he was like this. His skin pimpled with goose-flesh wherever Nigel’s fingers touched him, and the man smiled at the reaction. 

“Filthy fucking slut. You get off on being just another piece of furniture for us to use? Just a collection of holes for us to fill up?” He didn’t wait for a reply, bending down to snort one of the thicker lines up his nose, sniffing at the drip and closing his eyes for a minute at the rush that followed. 

“Alright, gentlemen. Let’s all top off,” He gestured at the remaining two lines, stark white against Adam’s tanned skin. They’d just returned from Australia, the sun off the Gold Coast turning Adam’s skin a warm brown that Nigel was tempted to lick to see if he could taste the salt and sun beneath his tongue. 

Dimitri returned, a large jar of lube and Adam’s largest toy clutched in one broad palm. Even Nigel felt something stir in his guts as he watched the man approach. He could certainly understand the appeal, could appreciate what Adam saw in the larger, gruff man. 

Darko knelt on one side while Dimitri took a spot on the opposite side, Nigel shuffling around to take in another look of Adam’s glorious ass, giving him a hard smack for good measure and smirking cruelly when the boy didn’t even flinch or cause the coke to shift on his back. 

Dimitri met his eyes over Adam’s back, shaking his head and rolling his eyes before bending down to do his line with the proffered bill. Darko followed soon after, following Adam’s example and rubbing some of the coke into his gums. 

Nigel pressed down harshly on Adam’s spine, pushing until the boy collapsed to the floor on his belly, back dipped tantalizing, and his thighs spread wide, accommodating. The perfect picture of the needy slut that he loved to play. “Time for you to be fuckin’ useful, little whore. Spread your legs wider for Daddy so we can play with you a little.”

Adam’s reaction was immediate, his legs falling open and sprawling far enough apart that his thighs tensed with it and Nigel was sure he was uncomfortable. Still, the boy remained in the position he’d been told to hold, and a heady sense of pride and desire coiled low in Nigel’s stomach. 

He smacked Adam’s ass again, watching the flesh ripple with the impact. Dimitri didn’t wait for him to speak, instead opening the jar of lube and scooping out several fingerfulls that he dropped unceremoniously onto Adam’s tacky rim, spreading it around until his hole was glistening with slick and fluttering under each touch. 

“Your greedy hole is as desperate as you are for cock, huh slut?” Nigel knew that Adam loved to have his hole played with, the boy had admitted that sometimes he liked that even more than getting fucked, and they’d certainly explored before, spending hours licking the boy until he cried, tears soaking into the sheets and his body taut and covered in sweat. 

It wasn’t even as though they hadn’t stretched him out until he was sore and aching before, body exhausted from the strain. The first time Adam had let Nigel work him up until he was sticky with sweat and come and he had taken Nigel’s entire fist inside his slender body, Nigel had come harder than he remembered coming in his entire goddamn life, his release joining the slick lube and sweat, drying sticky on Adam’s flushed skin. 

Adam tensed and let his head fall to rest flush with the soft rug. The air was cold against his back and ass. He sighed contentedly.

Dimitri pushed his middle finger in, meeting little resistance as he felt the slick walls of Adam’s hole. It was a gift, every time he was able to see Adam like this, so relaxed and at peace with the men around him. There had been times, before, that he had wondered genuinely if he’d lost his boy altogether. 

The thought made him possessive and greedy. His index finger pressed in beside, the two of them twisting and he reveled in every small bump and smooth section that the pads of his fingers found inside the body. 

“Fuck yourself on my fingers, myshka,” Dimitri breathed, his words coming out heavy and labored so soon after beginning.

Adam whined, pushing back as far as he could onto Dimitri’s hand. “More!” he whimpered, waving his ass as he pulled back. “Please, Daddy. Please!” 

“Mmm, you’ve got a well-trained boy,” Darko said, holding his cock in his hands and stroking distractedly as he watched the show. “How much can he take?”

Nigel laughed at that, his tongue whipping out to lick his dry lips and across his teeth as he smiled. He held up the massive plug, shaped roughly like a modernist Christmas tree. “This isn’t even going to phase you, is it cocksucker?”

Adam shook his head ferociously. He felt pressure, but as slick and as numb as he was, it wasn’t nearly enough. “Please!” he begged again, bending his back as much as he could to fuck himself fully onto Dimitri’s thick fingers. 

Nigel waltzed over, testing the heft of the plug in one hand before passing it to the other. Though he knew Adam craved it, he only let him have this toy for special occasions, when his greed overwhelmed him and all he wanted to see was Adam’s sore gaping hole blink wide before it returned to its normal tight pucker. Times like that, he could fuck him for hours, paying no attention to the way Adam moaned from beneath, left precariously on the edge of orgasm without permission to come. 

Dimitri slipped his fingers out when Nigel came around to his side. Nigel smiled at him, a sort of warm tenderness under his mischievous eyes. The two men had grown increasingly close to each other in the past ten months or so, with Adam serving to kindle a flicker of affection between them that had grown into a mutual fondness and trust. 

Nigel leaned down and brought his mouth down over Dimitri’s, the two of them sharing a sloppy kiss. When Nigel pulled away, it was with his free hand caressing Dimitri's rough cheek. “Gonna fuck him up good, aren’t we old man?”

Dimitri grumbled his dissent, but swiveled his head to kiss Nigel’s palm all the same.

Adam made a small mewling noise when the rounded point of the plug finally pushed against his rim. He took a steadying breath and stopped his hips from moving against the toy, trying to stay as still as possible for the men above. 

Dimitri squeezed more lube directly onto the toy, and together, the two men worked it increasingly further into his hole. The coke had numbed Adam well, but the toy was big and Nigel was fucking into him with more insistence than he ever had before. That he must be aching to take Adam himself had him whimpering quietly into the plush.

“Holy shit, he’s gonna take the whole thing?” Darko asked in amazement. His hand had started working faster, watching the way Adam stretched out to accommodate the increasing girth. 

Nigel pulled the toy out suddenly, making Adam gape and let out a loud frustrated noise. He immediately could feel Dimitri’s frenzied fingers slipping easily into his hole, massaging his rim and curling down to press against his prostate. 

Nigel slapped Dimitri’s hand away, leaving Adam floating alone on the carpet. He blinked his eyes quickly, trying to come back to himself enough to understand what was going on.

“Don’t neglect our fucking birthday boy, cocksucker,” Nigel growled. He grabbed a fistful of Adam’s hair, wrenching him up so that he was on his hands and knees. 

Adam licked his lips eagerly and nodded, urging Darko to slip down in front so that he might swallow him down in a single movement.

Darko groaned his appreciation. “Fucking cocksucker is right. I’m gonna fuck your face until you beg me to stop.” With that, he grabbed either side of Adam’s jaw and bucked his hips so Adam’s nose pressed hard into the muscle of his lower abdomen. 

At the same time, Nigel moved the toy back to his hole, slipping it nearly to its girthiest point. He paused then, biting his lip. He snuck a glance at Dimitri, who was enraptured with the show, then pushed the toy past the widest point until it sucked up and lodged deep inside him. He moved his hand slowly off the toy, making sure it was well stuck, then slapped the wide bottom a few times to hear Adam cry out in pleasure. 

Adam arched his entire body in an effort to get some relief, much to the entertainment of the three men around him. Darko stalled his thrusting, letting his cock rest snuggly in Adam’s frantically fluttering throat for long enough that the boy tried to pull away, stopped by a hand against the back of his head and Darko’s fingers dug into his cheeks. 

Finally, he was allowed to pull away spluttering, saliva dripping down his chin and coating his chest. Nigel thought he looked gorgeous covered in filth, and wanted to see him made even nastier by their efforts. 

He looked at Dimitri over the body sprawled between them, and Dimitri nodded his head, offering Nigel the lube. He coated two of his fingers, and started to drag them around Adam’s stretched out pucker, the muscle wrapped tight around the toy inside of him. Nigel spat against his hole, watching his saliva drip down his crack and over his balls. He grabbed Adam’s balls with one hand, pulling them hard enough to wrench a gasp from the boy, just as Darko slid all the way back into his throat, causing him to choke violently. 

While he was distracted, Nigel brought one of his fingers back to his hole and started to slip it in beside the large toy, the space tight enough to feel crushing even for Nigel; he couldn’t imagine what it felt like for Adam to be stuffed so full that his body was actively fighting against anything else. Nigel forced his finger in further, working against the convulsions of Adam’s body, his hole contracting tightly and trying to push Nigel back out. 

“Be good for your Daddy, filthy boy. Nigel is trying to give you what you want and you aren’t being very appreciative,” Darko taunted and Adam whined desperately around his cock, spit slipping from the corners of his stuffed mouth as Darko hooked one of his fingers into his cheek and pulled his mouth wider around him, exposing his teeth. 

Dimitri gave a harsh smack to Adam’s ass, watching his body contract desperately around the intrusion, his flanks heaving and sweat lining his neck, matting his hair against his forehead and the sides of his face. 

“You can take it, can’t you, Adam? You want to be a good boy for us, don’t you?” Dimitri inquired, leaning closer, adding some of his own spit to Adam’s sloppy, slicked-up hole, grinning at Nigel as the boy groaned and writhed beneath the treatment. 

Darko pulled out, one hand firm in Adam’s curls to allow the boy to speak. “Daddy, please. Fill me up, fuck me so full I’m feeling you for days,” he gasped, mewling pitifully before he was thrust back onto Darko’s cock. 

“You’ll be feeling us for _weeks_ , gorgeous,” Nigel promised, nodding for Dimitri to join him. The other man wet his own fingers with lube and circled one around Adam’s abused rim, letting just the tip of his pointer finger slip past the painfully stretched muscle, stopping at the wounded noise that came from Adam at the sensation. 

Instead, he took hold of the toy and pulled it nearly all the way out, allowing Nigel more room to sink his finger in deeper before Dimitri pushed the toy back in again, sinking it all the way down to the base. There were tears shining at the edges of Adam’s eyes, but he hadn’t said his safeword, or motioned his sign that meant he needed a break, so Nigel continued, hooking his finger and rubbing all along Adam’s walls, even as the toy nearly crowded him out again. 

“Such a slut for it, darling. Why don’t you beg for it, hm? Really show us how much you want our cocks all up in you?” Nigel teased, smacking Adam’s ass again and watching with glee as the boy tried to bring his knees together beneath him, tried to make himself smaller and jerk away from the abuse, even as his body also arched beautifully into Nigel’s hands. 

Darko groaned as he pulled his cock from Adam’s throat, the boy gasping and his chest seizing beneath them as he tried to collect himself. He was covered in spit, in pre-come, his own cock leaking steadily onto his belly and the floor beneath him. 

“Daddy - ” he cried, the tears that had gathered along his eyelashes finally spilling down his red-flushed cheeks. Nigel didn’t actually give him time to beg, ripping the plug from his clenching, grasping hole and sliding his own cock inside of him at nearly the same time, Darko taking the hint and plugging Adam’s mouth back up. 

Adam _keened_ , the sound muffled and desperate with a cock in his throat. Dimitri shuffled around so that he could climb underneath Adam, Darko and Nigel helping lift him just enough for the man to slide beneath him, before letting Adam rest against Dimitri’s hairy chest. 

Nigel pulled out after several rough, deep thrusts, grabbing Dimitri’s cock and helping guide him into Adam instead, filling his boy up. He let Dimitri thrust into him, sloppy and wet, the sounds lewd in the room around them. 

Adam sobbed, sputtering when Nigel pressed the tip of his own cock to Adam’s battered rim, watching in fascination as his hole tried to clench to keep him out, but he spread the boy wider, pouring nearly the entire rest of the bottle of lube out before pushing forward, not stopping until his cock slipped past the resistance of Adam’s entrance. The press of Adam’s hole was crushing, the pressure of Dimitri’s cock lined up with his own was nearly overwhelming to him, and he knew Adam must be in that space of real pain, pleasure only a hazy thought on the horizon. 

His desperate choking was enough to push Darko over the edge, the man pulling out just in time to splash his release all over Adam’s face, covering him in come. Adam was a mess, his face covered in semen, snot and tears, his cheeks flushed and his mouth gasping in wracking sobs. 

“Hurts…” he whined, and Dimitri soothed down his back, shushing him quietly. 

“Let him in, myshka. Let your Daddies take care of you,” he whispered, allowing a little fondness to bleed into his voice, unable to keep up the harsh Daddy persona when his boy was taking them so beautifully, suffering so wonderfully for them. 

Nigel went slowly, pressing in against the older man’s larger girth. He kept his eyes on Adam’s stretched hole, enraptured by the way it fluttered when Adam hiccuped on his next inhale. The press of them together in the heat of their boy would be enough to send him over the edge in a few short moments, he was nearly certain. He seated himself inside and breathed deeply, trying to calm the rushing frenzy that made him want to fuck out and back in, seeking release.

“Ahhh, baby boy.” Dimitri murmured sweetly into Adam’s ear. Unable to move well at this angle, he showered Adam’s face and neck and collarbones with frantic kisses. The feeling of taking his boy like this was overwhelming him; he wasn’t sure how to express the fondness that swelled in his chest. He kept the onslaught of kisses going, trying to soothe the boy who was so clearly on a razor’s edge of pleasure and pain.

The room was silent except for the heavy, needy breaths of the three men wrapped up in one another. Nigel rubbed Adam’s ass appreciatively, while Dimitri made his own cock twitch every few seconds, making all three of them moan on the precipice of overstimulation. 

“God, could stay in you all night,” Nigel blabbered, then made the smallest shift of his hips. The sensation made Adam cry out, Dimitri grabbing his back and pressing him down with the shock of feeling Nigel slide beside him. 

“Ask for it, myshka.” Dimitri whispered into Adam’s ear. The boy’s eyes were still wet with tears, but he’d stopped his incessant whimpering noises and his breathing had started to steady compared to just a few moments ago.

Adam shook his head minutely, unable to bring himself to say what Dimitri _so_ wanted. Dimitri caught him in a soft, languorous kiss that calmed him by degrees. “Ask for it, _zoloto_. So close, baby. Feels so fucking good.”

Pride swelled in Adam’s chest hearing how affected Dimitri felt. He closed his eyes tightly against the searing pain of his rim and let out a shaky exhale.

“Fuck me,” he whimpered quietly to his men. “Please, Daddies. Fuck me and shoot your hot come inside me. Wanna feel you feeling good. _Please_.”

Nigel pulled out and slowly, achingly slowly, slid back in beside Dimitri’s twitching, thick cock. The crush of it astounded him; he threw his head back and let out a long, throaty noise before pulling out and fucking in again. 

Darko leaned forward and kissed the top of Adam’s head. “Gorgeous, cocksucker. Simply gorgeous.” He moved around to the side and watched through heavy lidded eyes as Nigel slowly and tenderly fucked into the tight heat.

It took only a moment. Dimitri, who stayed relatively still throughout, had his thighs starting to shake within the first few thrusts. Soon, he was groaning into the tender skin behind Adam’s ear, confessing sins in Russian and making endless promises to the boy who was making him feel so good. After a particularly smooth, deep slide of Nigel’s cock bumped up against the back of his cockhead, he let out a growl and bucked up, climaxing and pushing his come deep into Adam’s insides. 

Adam cried out at the sensation, then again when Dimitri slid himself out and his hole fluttered to close around Nigel’s cock. “Thank you, Daddy,” he whispered, as Dimitri kissed away his tears. “Felt so good, thank you.”

Nigel grabbed hold of Adam’s hips and pistoned himself inside the loose heat of his boy. The slick, sloppy feeling of fucking into his used hole made him cry out within minutes, releasing spurt after spurt into Adam.

As Nigel pulled out a final time, Adam felt his resolve collapse in tandem. His knees buckled and he fell full force down onto Dimitri, who stroked up and down his back, whispering precious words that he couldn’t understand. 

“Fuck, so good for us, gorgeous,” Nigel proclaimed, his hands unable to stop stroking over Adam’s red backside in strong, soothing circles. 

“What do you want?” Dimitri teased.

Adam was quiet for a second, lost in the immediate come down of such an intense scene. Instead, he whimpered into Dimitri’s chest and bucked his thin hips up against Dimitri’s thigh. He was still painfully hard, but so wrung out there was nothing he could imagine doing about it.

Darko was the first to untangle himself from the bodies on the floor. He shuffled around, seeking another bump to keep him soaring. “Better take that one to bed, boys.” He smiled, then sniffled back the drip of the coke down his throat.

\---

Adam came back to himself slowly, surrounded by the warmth of two much larger bodies pressed close to his own, Nigel at his front and Dimitri at his back. It took him several minutes to realize the whines he heard were coming from his own throat, vibrating up from his chest and muffled into Nigel’s neck and collarbones.

“That’s it, sweet boy. Come back to us,” Dimitri rumbled into Adam’s shoulder blades, his breath stirring the hairs at Adam’s nape. A shiver spilled down Adam’s spine at the gentle touches of the two men, their hands seemingly everywhere all at once as he lazily rocked into Nigel’s thigh where it was tucked between his own. 

“Daddy,” he breathed into Nigel’s skin, licking and suckeling at the salty warmth beneath his lips. 

“Such a good boy for us, gorgeous. You were perfect,” Nigel assured him, and Adam could feel the curve of Dimitri’s smile against his spine as he mumbled similar words of encouragement and praise into Adam’s back.

And, the thing was, he believed them. He knew his men weren’t the sort to throw out empty words or to say things they didn’t fully mean. Even though they were soft with Adam, they were honest. And it just added to the safety and comfort he felt with them.   
“Do you want to come, sweetheart?” Nigel rumbled against Adam’s mouth, kissing at his bruised, swollen bottom lip with a tenderness that would have been bizarre a year ago. Adam keened as Nigel licked along the seam of his lips, prying them apart slowly and gently, leaving lingering, soft kisses all around his mouth and licking against his teeth and tongue. He tasted like beer and cocaine, faintly of nicotine, and Adam sank further into the warm familiarity. 

“Yeah,” he stuttered into the quiet between them, his throat felt wrecked after Darko’s earlier abuse, and Adam preened at a job well done. 

He felt Dimitri’s hand, firm but gentle on his hip as he pulled Adam tighter to his stomach. Adam could feel his flaccid cock stirring slightly between his cheeks, but knew Dimitri wouldn’t do anything about it now. Not after they’d so thoroughly used Adam earlier. 

Nigel’s palm found Adam’s hard, leaking cock where it rested between his slick, come- and lube-coated thighs, fondling him with soft but insistent pressure. Adam arched his entire body into the sensation, moaning as he felt Dimitri’s cockhead catch on his aching rim. The man didn’t push into him, but the constant pressure was enough to force another moan from Adam’s throat, his eyes shut so tightly he saw flashes of red and black behind his eyelids. 

“Come on, darling. Come for us, let us see,” Nigel coaxed him with an increase in sensation, wrapping his entire, large hand around Adam’s cock and stroking him in slow, purposeful strokes. 

“Myshka, come for your Daddies, show us how pretty you are,” Dimitri’s voice was gruff in Adam’s ear, like his own control was on the same precipice as Adam’s. 

It didn’t take long from there, lost in the soft sheets and even softer sensations of four hands touching him, words of praise and love and devotion showering against his skin like rain. He barely felt it in his cock when he came, spilling against Nigel’s belly, instead he felt it all over his body, at each place where fingers rested against his flesh or warm skin sat flushed against warm skin.

\---

Four days later, the three men were curled together in clean sheets within the same king sized bed. The snow had started several days ago and had decided to stick, making sloping piles on the edges of the windows; a festive cheer creeping into Adam’s heart.

He climbed over Dimitri, shuffling around to pull two small packages from the night stand. 

“Open them!” he said eagerly, shoving the simply wrapped boxes onto each of the men’s stomachs without preamble. 

Dimitri pushed himself onto his elbows and regarded the box. He looked up at Adam with a raised brow. “Christmas is tomorrow.”

“Open it.” Adam repeated.

“We said no fucking gifts, gorgeous,” Nigel added, holding the box by his fingertips.

“ _Fucking open it_ ” Adam growled, exasperated. He tugged at Nigel’s arm, pulling him to a seated position and plopped himself between the two men.

Nigel eyed him suspiciously, but began unwrapping the brown paper as Dimitri followed suit. A thrum of anticipation made Adam buzz inside his skin, anxious to reveal the gift. 

Dimitri was the first to get his box open. He picked up the delicate curved piece of gold metal and turned it about curiously. 

Nigel was more blunt. “The fuck is this?” he asked, holding up a nearly identical gold ‘c’. 

“There’s something else in there too,” Adam said, letting himself bounce once on the mattress. His fingers fidgeted with the seam of the white linens, unable to stay still. 

He rummaged through the black tissue paper, pulling out a diminutive lock whose gold plating shined to match the curved metal in his other hand. Dimitri pulled out the same. “Alright, now I’m fucking confused.”

Adam let a shy smile slip. He grabbed hold of Dimitri’s wrist, his fingers several inches away from wrapping fully around his thick limb. He tugged, guiding Dimitri to position the metal piece against the side of Adam’s bare neck. 

“And the other side?” he asked, motioning with his gaze for Nigel to do the same. Nigel, still uncertain what was happening, moved slowly to mimic Dimitri. As the pieces approached, the men noticed the tiny openings on either side that slotted together and they let the metal’s teeth slide in between each other. Together, the two delicate pieces of gold formed a tight collar around the base of Adam’s neck.

He felt the edges of the metal close against each other and let out a sharp exhale. A shiver plucked at his flesh, making the room feel cooler than it had been moments ago. 

Dimitri understood first. He sat up straight and shuffled himself back behind Adam. He placed his large palm over Adam’s bare spine, his fingers moving minutely to pull more goosebumps up his back and over his shoulders. Then, with his other hand, he took the lock and slid the curved metal through the interconnected holes, locking the two pieces of metal together behind Adam.

“I just thought,” Adam started, looking directly at Nigel. “I mean. It’s been helping a lot. Having you two… with the sex and the control. After… after everything… I mean, it’s helped.” Suddenly lost for words, he stumbled over what he was meaning to say.

Nigel smiled in understanding, and drew the cold lock to the edge of Adam’s neck, trailing it down until it slipped into the other opening. The slide of the metal on Adam’s skin made his cock twitch. The lock _clicked_ shut. Adam shuddered. 

“A collar,” he said, running his finger around the now-solid metal ring about Adam’s neck. Adam pulled his head to the side, giving Nigel more space to explore. He let out a small contented sigh.

“A collar,” Adam agreed. 

“Who do you want to belong to?” Dimitri asked, his lips touching the back of Adam’s neck where the small metal lock hung below the gold band. 

Adam shuddered. “Both of you,” he gasped. 

“For when we play?” Nigel asked. His hand slipped down to rest against the smattering of hair along Adam’s inner thigh.

Adam spread his legs, his body arching into each man’s touch. “Whenever you want.”

“Fucking dangerous, gorgeous.”

“I trust you.” Adam sighed, closing his eyes. Dimitri pulled the boy down onto his back. He immediately stole his mouth, their tongues licking against each other with increasing fervor. Nigel chuckled, then pushed open both of Adam’s thighs, burying his face into the crook between his cock and his thigh. 

“I can be exceedingly greedy.” Dimitri mumbled into Adam’s mouth when they broke for air. 

Adam let out a satisfied whine “Mmm Daddy, I’m counting on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with us through all these months! We love these characters and have enjoyed sharing them with you all.

**Author's Note:**

> Previously, on Sange: Adam was kidnapped at the very end of part 1, leaving Nigel and Dimitri reeling and alone! This was after several weeks of getting to know Nigel and having increasingly wonderful sex (and even a threesome or SEVERAL)


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